Freedmans
by letpurplereign
Summary: Kati is the 16-year-old daughter of Cooper and Charlotte Freedman.  After tragedy strikes, darkness threatens to engulf Kati, and her parents are left struggling to keep her out the shadow of loss, and help her find her place in a confusing world.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, come on, Mom," I moan, spinning around to face her again. "It's a party, not a drug-crazed orgy!"

This is clearly not the right way to make my argument. My mother fixes her blue-green eyes on mine and gives me the Look. The Look is what Dad and I call my mother's unblinking gaze that straight-forwardly says that the conversation is over; she's already won the argument.

"Fine," I raise my hands in front of my chest and let them fall. "I'll miss it. Just like every other party at Axel's house."

"Axel's house is half an hour away, and typically unsupervised, if I recall."

"Yes. And the one time I was allowed out there for a party, I returned home alive, if you'll recall."

"Alright, Kati," she sighs. "Let's just take it down a notch, alright?"

The front door opens and closes and my father announces his arrival home.

"Hey, gorgeous," he smiles, kissing my head as he passes to greet my mother. He kisses her and then, as usual, tries to diffuse the tension. My mother and I actually get along really well. Our arguments are few and far between, but when they happen, we both think we're right and it takes some time to settle. My dad says it's because we're exactly alike; stubborn and unwavering.

"What are we talking about?" he asks, getting a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Mom has a desire to see me with no friends, invited to no parties, and remaining a virgin until I'm 60," I reply drily.

"Well I'm on board with the last bit there," my dad replies. "What party?"

"It's a kegger," Mom answers, glancing at me pointedly, and sorting papers from her briefcase. "And it's at Axel Mason's house, and I'd bet my last dollar that his parents won't be there."

"You are archaic," I reply, monotone, closing my eyes.

"Just good ol' Southern love, baby girl," she replies, walking over to me and kissing my forehead. "Forgive me for not wanting to send my only child off to a fire in a woodpile."

"Where do you get these sayings?" I ask, my hands pointed to the ceiling.

"Kati, why do you want to go this party?" Dad asks, biting an apple.

"Because I'm sixteen," I reply, completely serious.

"She gets that sarcasm from you," Dad says to Mom. "And where are we in the Yes or No situation?"

"No," I answer.

"Hey, I didn't say no," Mom says. "Not exactly. I said not if it's unsupervised."

"Please don't tell me you're stipulations involve you being there to supervise," I breathe.

"Now there's a party," Dad says through a bite of apple. "Break out the SoCo and Bluegrass." Mom playfully pinches him.

"You don't even know that his parents won't be there," I retort. "And since when do you not trust me?"

"We do trust you, sugar," she replies. "I just don't trust any other teenagers."

"Well, if you trust me, then you trust my judgment. What do you think I'm going to do? Drink? Because I haven't lied about that. I have had beer. You think I'm going to do drugs? Have sex?"

This seems to startle my Dad into strict attention. He looks up, glancing from me to my mother. "Sex? Is there sex?"

I roll my eyes. "No, Dad. There is no sex."

"Yeah? Because we can...we can talk about, y'know. All of that."

"We did. When I was 12," I reply, getting exasperated. "And it will be a long time before I forget your awkward explanation of sexual reproduction."

"Look, baby, there are a lot of things and situations that you just might not be ready to handle just yet."

"Well how am I supposed to grow up, Mom, if you won't let me? I'm gonna have to experience certain things, if you want me to know how to handle them."

This seems to silence both of them. Dad looks over at Mom, who glances at him, and they have one of their Eye Conversations. With no words, they can come to a conclusion for just about anything. I take a deep breath and rub my foot over Nigel, our English bulldog.

"Alright, listen," Mom begins after a few moments. I glance up, surprised at her tone. "You may go-" My eyes widen. "On several terms," she finishes.

"Alright," I reply, sighing. "Let's hear it."

"No drinking," she points at me, sternly.

"Fine. It's not like I've ever gone and gotten wasted and come home soaked in vomit, without my shoes and with a score of hickeys on my neck" This is the wrong thing to say, as both my parents look disturbed by this tidbit.

"No smoking. Anything."

"Mom," I look at her, head cocked. "Seriously."

"I know you wouldn't, I'm just stating it. It's a...family rule. And you're home by 11:30," she finishes.

"Midnight?" I counter hopefully.

"Eleven?" she counters back.

"Eleven-thirty," I agree. She holds out her pinkie finger; a silly thing we've done since I can remember. Ever since I was old enough to know what a promise was, and how important they were to keep. I reach out and hook my pinkie with hers. She smiles, and I can't help but smile back. She pulls me in and hugs me tightly, kissing my hair as she pulls back.

"I love you," she says, tucking a dark lock of hair behind my ear.

"I love you, too," I reply. She squeezes my hand before turning and walking around the kitchen island to the fridge.

"And no sex," Dad pipes up, pointing his apple at me.

"Believe me, I have no desire to be naked with any of the morons I go to school with." This relieves both of them; my dad more openly.

"And when you do feel like maybe that's...maybe..."

"Yes, Dad. When that day comes, I will be smart and come to you if I need to." He raises his hands in surrender.

"Just making sure. We had an agreement."

I shake my head, rolling my eyes, as my phone vibrates on the island. I pick it up and reply to Jamie's text about the party.

"Will Jamie be joining us for dinner?" Mom asks, pulling dishes out.

"Probably," I reply. "She's on her way over. I'm going to have a shower." I head upstairs to shower before Jamie arrives. As I head up the stairs, I hear Dad sigh, and Mom say, "Yeah...Those Days have arrived."


	2. Chapter 2

In all honesty, my parents are pretty great. Like I said, we have arguments once in awhile, but we're actually very close. Most people my age hate their parents, or are embarrassed by them and can't stand to be around them. I actually love having date nights with my parents, ordering in food and playing board games or watching movies. My parents met through work. My mom is the chief of staff at St. Ambrose Hospital and a urologist at a private clinic, and my dad is a pediatrician at the same clinic. They were constantly running into each other when my dad's patients were in the hospital (before Mom worked at the clinic). At first, Mom didn't like Dad. She's very headstrong and stubborn and confident; a Southern belle, literally. She has blonde hair and blue-green eyes and looks like a Miss America contestant, but she's probably the toughest woman I know. I've seen her wrestle hogs to the ground at my grandparent's ranch in Alabama. My dad is kind of nerdy, in a sweet and innocent sort of way. Probably why he's such a great pediatrician. He loves kids, and they love him. All of my friends have always loved my dad. Anyway, eventually, my parents got together. From the stories I've heard, it took awhile, but they've been married for almost 17 years, and are still one of the closest couples I've seen. I see a lot of parents, and a lot of them hate each other, or aren't even together. Most of my friends split their time between two homes.

I look a lot like Mom, but instead of blonde hair, I have dark brown, like my Dad. It used to bother me when I was little, and would play with her blonde locks as she read me bedtime stories. But she always had a story or a matter-of-fact statement about how dark hair was just as good as blonde. Anything to make me feel better.

I walk out of my bathroom after my shower, wrapped in a towel, there's a knock at my door.

"Yeah?" I say, unwrapping the towel from my hair.

"Hey, sugar," Mom sticks her head into the room. "You mind if we have a quick chat?"

"Okay," I say, combing out my hair. She comes in and settles onto my bed, picking up a magazine from the pile. I go into my closet to find some sweats to wear as I blow dry my hair.

"So, honey, there's something pretty important that I want to talk to you about," she begins. It must be serious, because she doesn't often sound like she doesn't want to have a conversation. I pull on some sweatpants and a shirt and go back into the room.

"K," I reply, and she pats the bed beside her. I sit down and she moves to face me. "Is something wrong? Is this about that math test? Because I did study!"

"No, honey-wait, what? What math test?"

"What?" I reply innocently.

She shakes her head quickly. "Nevermind, we'll talk about that later. This is different. Bigger," she sighs. "Much bigger." She takes a breath, and I stay quiet, getting nervous about what this is about. "Okay, baby, I've never told you about this. I still think of you as my baby girl, and I probably always will, but the fact is, you're not a baby. You're growing up, and you're embarking on some new experiences..."

"Mom..." I frown, "Are you okay?" She doesn't typically look so nervous.

"Baby, a long time ago, a couple years before you were born, I was attacked." I stare at her, unsure of what to say next.

"What?" I say, frowning. "What do you mean 'attacked'?"

"I was at work, and it was late at night, and I was heading out of my office. You know how Ambrose is, there are some hallways not near the main ones, no one is usually around." I nod, unable to say anything. "Well, someone..." I can tell this is difficult for her, but she presses on. "Someone came up behind me and hit me, covered my mouth and shoved me into my office. And he..." she takes a deep breath, and blows it out slowly.

"Mom," I say, refusing to believe this. "No..."

"Bad things happen, baby. And I trust you. I love you more than anything and I know how smart you are. But things can happen before you know what's going on, and I want you to be so careful, baby. I remember what high school parties are like. I know it's easy to get caught up in the moment and to deal with your friends influencing what you do." She brushes tears from my cheeks. "You just need to understand how important you are to your daddy and me. And I never," she stares at me, hard, "want you to go through what I went through. It was the hardest time of my life, and if it weren't for your daddy and your Aunt Violet and Aunt Naomi, I don't think I'd be where I am today. I don't know where I'd be."

I'm speechless, unable to get the image of a faceless man attacking my mother out of my head.

"Baby, I'm fine," she says, taking my face into her hands. "I just need you to be careful. So careful."

"I will," I say quietly. It's silent for a moment and when I look up, there are tears in her eyes, too. She reaches out and pulls me in, hugging me tightly. We hear the door open and close downstairs, followed by my best friend's loud voice.

"Hellloooooo Freedmans!"

My father greets her and we hear the muffled sounds of conversations as we both grin about Jamie's entrance.

"I feel safer knowing that you have the Megaphone with you at all times," Mom smiles. We laugh, and I wipe my face of any leftover tear stains. Mom's thumbs wipe away a stray tear and she holds my face for a second. "Love you, baby."

"I love you, too." She kisses my cheek. We hear Jamie barrelling up the stairs before she bursts into the room.

"Hey, Dr. Freedman," she smiles hugely. "You coming to the party tonight?"

"Oh, no, Jamie, I think I'll leave you two to the mischief and shenanigans," Mom replies, smiling.

"Bummer, you're basically the hottest mom we know. All the guys call you a MILF," she pops a gum bubble.

"Gross!" I wrinkle my nose at Jamie.

"What?" Jamie holds up her hands. "Your mom's hot." I shake my head, getting up from the bed.

"Well, that is true, honey," Mom sighs, getting up too. "Your mama's hot. Dinner's in ten minutes, girls."

After she leaves Jamie looks up from emptying her backpack full of clothes onto my bed. "You look weird...are you okay?" she demands.

"Weird? Thanks, James."

"You know what I mean. Why were you crying?" Jamie and I have known each other since kindergarten. Aside from my parents, no one knows me better than her.

"Just...talking to my mom about stuff," I reply, unwilling to share this secret.

"Big Daddy?" she guesses, referring to my grandfather. Everyone calls him Big Daddy. He was in the hospital earlier this month after suffering a heart attack, and was diagnosed with lung cancer over a year ago.

"Yeah," I lie, wiping my eyes to hide them.

"Sorry, babe," she hugs me and then holds up a skirt from her backpack. "What do you think? With a leather bomber?" The skirt is ridiclous. The kind of thing my parents would never let me wear, and I would never even attempt.

"Does it come with a knife and fork? It looks like a fricken napkin. Good luck getting out of the house in that," I reply.

Jamie's mom took off right after she was born, and she was raised by her lawyer father. He loves her, and he means well, but he's not really around very much, and Jamie gets away with murder where he's concerned. My mother took it upon herself, after learning of Jamie's situation in kindergarten, to take Jamie under her wing and act as a sort-of aunt to her. While my mother isn't as warm and loving with others as she is with me, she is a bit softer towards Jamie. Some people would call her a bitch, and maybe she can be. But she gets shit done. Seriously. Men and women are afraid of my chief-of-staff mother and her stubborn ways. "Yeah, you're right," she drops the skirt. "Your dad would shit." She paws through the rest of the clothes she's brought as I pull a pair of pants from my closet. "Aw, are those your new 7s?"

"Yeah, I haven't really worn them yet," I reply, adjusting the buttons near the ankles.

"They're hot, I love them," Jamie nods. Dad calls up the stairs that it's dinner time, so we leave the clothes and head down for dinner.

An hour later we're ready to leave.

"Have fun tonight, girls," Dad says, looking up from the couch where he has patient files all around him. "Make good choices." He gives each of us a serious stare.

"Always, Freedman," Jamie knocks his fist with hers.

"Bye, Dad," I bend down and kiss his cheek. Mom comes out of the kitchen with her laptop, ready to settle down with Dad and work before bed.

"You outta here, ladies?"

"Yep," Jamie nods. "Black Betty awaits."

Black Betty is Jamie's Range Rover; a gift from her father for her 16th birthday.

"You just make sure Black Betty is driven by a driver who's not a total moron," Mom advises.

"Charlotte, I am shocked. If you think I would ever endanger my beloved Kati, you must be insane." Jamie's shakes her head, and my mom laughs and runs a hand over her hair before coming and kissing my forehead.

"Be careful," she orders. "Love you, baby girl."

"Love you, too."


	3. Chapter 3

Jamie and I head out and make the drive out to the Hills, where Axel's enormous mansion sits. Pulling up, we see that the party is already in full swing.

"Looks like we're just in time," Jamie grins, and we start walking inside. Jamie loves making an entrance. She's never the first to arrive , I see groups of our friends scattered around the huge main area. The kitchen and living room are one giant area with a vaulted ceiling. The open concept is perfect for parties, and, as Jamie would add, the rooms out of view are also perfect. For other things.

"Kati!" Max Brinkley jumps up from her spot on the couch and rushes over.

"Hey," I smile. Max's vibrant red curls are flying as she animatedly begins telling us of the first scandal of the night: Chelsea Elliott's boyfriend Keaton was found in a bathroom with Melissa Baxter, an infamous slut.

"God, we just got here, how is there already a breakup in the works?" I shake my head.

We follow Max over to the group on the couch, noticing more of our friends piled together, drinking beer and coolers and gossiping endlessly about school scandals.

"Kate, over here," I look up and see Silas Mitchell motion to the empty spot beside him. Silas and I have had this back-and-forth flirty relationship for a couple months now. I like him, but there's so much stuff going on in my junior year, that he's not exactly topping my list of priorities. I go and sit down anyways, since we are, after all, good friends.

"I'm glad you came," he smiles, turning his body towards mine.

"I think it's in bad taste to miss too many of Axel's parties," I reply. "Something insane always happ-" I'm cut off by a loud bellow of "Cannonball!", followed by screams as someone jumps from one of the second-story balconies and hits the pool. "Case in point," I say, nodding towards the pool, easily visible through the huge glass doors.

Silas laughs."Sick," he says. "Fifty bucks says Brett does that at least three more times tonight. And one of those times will involve a prop."

I glance outside to see Brett laughing loudly before shotgunning a beer. "Yeah, I'm not taking that bet-I agree with you. And three seems too low of a number," I reply.

"I'll grab you a beer," Silas says, getting up from the couch. I always take the first beer offered, and make sure I move around to different circles, so no one actually knows that it's the same beer the entire night. Silas returns with a beer and we sit and banter, as usual, for awhile, before deciding the make the rounds. Just to check out the party and see what kind of antics our friends are up to.

"You missed Axel's last shaker," Silas says, as we descend the few stairs to the backyard.

"Yeah, I had plans," I reply.

"Wasn't the same without you," he grins, and we reach the backyard where everyone is hanging around, drinking and smoking joints the size of my middle finger. I grin in reply and turn when a friend calls my name. I've been at the party for a few hours when I check my phone and realize it's 11.15.

"Shit, I gotta go," I say to Axel, who I found playing a heated round of Beersbie. He's high as a gypsy and his eyes are completely glazed over.

"It's early," he says slowly, but with surprise. "Come on, we're gonna set off some fireworks! You gotta stay! You're my main girl!"

"Oh, Axel," I reply, standing up, placing a hand on his shoulder. We've been friends since elementary school. "Next time," I promise. "Next time I'll shoot fireworks with you. Into the water, like last time when your mind was almost totally blown."

"Aw, totes," he replies in awe. "That was sick, bra." He holds out a fist and I pound it before waving and going to find Jamie. When she's not in the main room, I think I know exactly where she is. I head down a discreet hallway and open the door to Axel's parent's room, which is coincidentally Jamie's favourite room to bring her latest crush into. Sure enough, she is making out with someone on the bed.

"Hey," I call. "Kim Kardashian. Let's beat it; we're officially late."

"Shit, seriously? Your mom's gonna kill me," she hops off her partner and I recognize him as a senior. Brody or something. He nods at me and I stare in return. I refuse to acknowledge any dude who considers a nod a form of greeting.

"See ya later, kickstand," she grins, sliding into her leather jacket and following me out of the room.

"Kickstand?" I say, as we close the front door and head towards the car.

"Holy shit, Kati, I swear I felt a baby arm through his jeans," she breathes. I laugh and shake my head. "Seriously!" Jamie says.

"I believe you. He's got enormous hands. Kind of a dead giveaway."

"Oh," Jamie says, stopping to think. "I never thought of that."

"Keep walkin'," I say. "We already have to deal with my mom when we get back."

Jamie groans and searches for her keys in her bag. She finds them and drops them on the ground.

"Are you good?" I ask. Maybe she ended up having a few drinks tonight.

"Yeah," she replies, as if that's a stupid question. "Let's go."

We climb into Black Betty and start the drive home. It's a twenty-minute drive without traffic, and it seems as though some random influx of traffic has appeared, to ruin my life.

"Fuck," Jamie says.

"Yeah," I agree. "I'm definitely not gonna be allowed to go to the next party. Wherever it is."

Breaking curfew is unacceptable at our house. The result is not an outright grounding, but the knowledge that I'm absolutely missing the next party. And possibly the one after. Jamie and I chat about the party, who kissed who, who lost her virginity in Axel's little sister's room, who was the most wasted moron there. Jamie makes a few odd corrections with the wheel, and I know she's definitely a little drunk.

"You are drunk!" I say, staring at her. She looks at me and widens her eyes.

"I had like, three beers," she retorts.

"Fuck. Jamie," I rest my head in my palm. "What the hell?"

"Kati, come on. I'm fine." I look up at Jamie, and when I look forward again, the only thing I see are huge headlights. I hear a horn, a scream and then everything goes black.


	4. Chapter 4

I feel before I hear or see. My hand is wrapped between two other hands. I have no idea where I am, but I haven't even opened my eyes. I don't even remember where I was before I fell asleep, but there's a pain in my head that confuses me, and tells me that I didn't just fall asleep, and I'm not in my bed.

"You're sure?" I hear a woman say.

"Absolutely. Her brain activity is normal. It's just a matter of her waking up."

"But her forehead..."

"It looks worse than it is, Charlotte. You know that."

I finally recognize the one voice as my mother's. They must be her hands squeezing mine, then. I hear her take a deep breath and let it out after a second. It catches just slightly.

"She's going to wake up," a man says softly.

"I know that," is the indignant reply. Mom. So stubborn. She's acting tough, but I don't understand why, or why I'm still in darkness. I realize my eyes are too heavy for me. It's impossible to even make a slit of light appear. "Come on, baby," she whispers. "Come back to Mama...please, sugar."

Her soft hand gently touches the right side of my head. The left side is throbbing slightly, but I feel woozy, as though I've been shot up with a lot of painkillers. She starts to talk to me again, but I can't keep myself from falling into a haze again.

I hear voices again. This time I know right away that it's my mother, and now I know the man is my dad, and the other woman is Amelia, my parent's friend and coworker, a neurosurgeon.

"It's been three days, Amelia," my mom breathes. She's angry, trying to hide it. But her anger is just fear, and she hates being scared.

"Think of what her body went through, Charlotte," Amelia reasons, doctor to doctor. "It's needed time to right itself. You saw her chart. Everything is normal. Everything."

"Except for the fact that she won't. Wake. Up."

"Charlotte," I hear Dad's soft voice, and I know he's got his arms around her. I hear her choke on a sob.

"She's my baby," she cries.

I've only ever seen my mother cry like this once, and it's on the video of my birth.

"I know, baby. I know," Dad soothes her.

I'm trying to open my eyes, but they still feel as though someone has glued the lids shut. After a few moments, I feel someone beside me again. I know as soon as my hand is enveloped that it's Mom. She kisses my hand and breathes deeply, trying to calm herself down. I need to tell her that I'm here. I'm okay. But my body is not listening to me. I focus solely on my fingers and tell them to move. Squeeze. Nothing happens; my veins are filled with cement. I try, getting frustrated-I can't even open an eye. Finally, I'm not sure how long it takes, my two middle fingers twitch ever so slightly. I hear an, "Oh!" and feel Dad on my left, touching my other hand.

"Kati? Baby?" Mom says softly. "Sugar, mama's here. I'm right here, baby." I'm straining every muscle around my eyes and suddenly I see a blinding sliver of white light. Dad is gone from my side and is yelling in the hallway. Moments later, Amelia is talking to me.

"Kati, honey, can you open your eyes?" she asks, flashing a light before me. The light is so bright; it hurts. But I force my lids open even further, and I see Amelia step back and suddenly my mother is the only thing I see.

"Mama..." I attempt, but my voice is raspy and nearly non-existent.

"I'm right here, baby, I'm here," she rushes her words out, holding my hand even tighter. "Daddy, too," she says. He's still gripping my left hand. Slowly, slowly, my lids open to the point where they can see my eyes. Mom rests her forehead on our hands and I hear her thank God. She looks back up and there are tears in her eyes. When I focus on her, I notice that her entire face is red; her eyes swollen and sad.

"Baby," she chokes out, and kisses my forehead. Dad rests his lips on my forehead for a moment longer. I'm so confused. Why am I here, in the hospital?

"I..." I begin, and finally my tongue moves the way I want it to. "What happened?" I choke out. Everybody looks at each other, and my parents locks eyes for a moment, making a decision.

"Honey, there was an accident," Dad says gently. His blue eyes are so full of worry, and I see that he's been crying, too.

"What?" I'm so confused. Mom stares at me and her forehead crinkles, as though she's in pain.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Dad asks carefully. I think, my eyes closing and opening so slowly, as though they are learning all over again how to work. Images flash through my mind, but nothing concrete. Everything is fuzzy.

"I don't..." I begin, but just shake my head.

"Baby, there was an accident. On your way home from Axel's," Dad says gently. I feel as though my stomach is full of cement, and I remember flashes of moments. Jamie making out with Brody, searching for her keys.

"I'm sorry," I rasp. "I broke curfew." Mom closes her eyes to block tears, and rubs a hand across her forehead.

"Oh, baby, it's okay. Don't worry," she tells me. But everyone is still acting differently.

"The truck," I say. I remember turning my head and seeing nothing but two huge headlights. "Headlights." Dad inhales sharply, and hangs his head, trying to fight his own tears.

"Jamie," I say, and my mom closes her eyes and rests her forehead on our hands again.

"Baby," she begins, trying to smile through her tears to ease my heightening fear. She's still crying, but I doubt she knows it. Tears just slowly slip from her eyes. "Jamie's gone, baby."

My entire chest shudders, as though my heart stopped for a second. "Gone? Where?" I ask, my confusion rapidly morphing into cold dread.

"I'm so sorry, baby girl," she whispers, kissing my hand, grasped in hers. "She didn't make it."

I don't understand, but I do. I can't breathe, but I am. Dad has tears as he sits on my left, softly smoothing my hair.

"No," I say, my voice choking. "She's not. She's here. She has to be here." I attempt to sit up but both of them rise to gently push my shoulders back down, as Mom touches my cheek and holds it in her palm.

"Baby, you can't get up," she tells me. She bends down to rest her lips on my forehead.

"Breathe, Kati," Dad begs. "Just breathe."

There are hot tears slipping down my cheeks and I didn't even realize I was crying. My stomach still feels like it might explode, or I might throw up. My breath is uneven, inhales coming sharply and too close together.

"Deep breaths, sugar," Mom tells me, placing my hand against her chest so I can feel her even, deep breaths; try and match them. But I can't, and suddenly I can't breathe at all, and I'm panicking. My hands grip my parents wrists fiercely, and Amelia is suddenly back in the room, searching through a drawer.

"No," Mom begins, but Dad touches her hand. She stops, giving in, as I continue to hyperventilate. Amelia injects something into my IV and within seconds, I feel myself slowing down, and falling and then everything disappears.


	5. Chapter 5

When I wake again, people are talking, far away. There's an oxygen mask on my face, and I realize the small group of people are Mom, Dad, Aunt Violet and Aunt Addison. Violet is a psychologist. She's not related to us, but she's known Dad since forever, and is as good as blood to me. Addison is a surgeon and OB/GYN, and has been in my life just as long as Violet. I remember what my parents told me, and my eyes quickly fill up, but I feel numb. Slowly I reach up and take off the mask, grabbing the attention of the group. Mom rushes over first, setting her cup of tea down on the table.

"Hey, darlin'," she smiles at me. She smoothes my hair and then takes the oxygen mask from around my neck. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"

"My head," I mumble, reaching up to the left side of my head. But she stops my hand.

"Oh, don't touch just yet, baby. You've got some stitches and gauze there."

"Why?" I rasp, confused.

"Some glass hit you," she explains. "And the airbag knocked you pretty hard." She holds a cup of water with a straw up to my mouth for me, and those first sips of water feel amazing, and I feel the liquid all the way down my throat and into my stomach. It helps make my voice less raspy.

I don't understand what happened in the accident, but I'm scared to find out. Dad is beside me, and Addison and Violet are at the foot of the bed. Everyone's smiling at me in that way that people smile at someone they feel sorry for. I hate it.

"Hey, beautiful," Violet says. I smile, a small, unwilling smile.

"Someone snuck in to see you," Addison grins, and then looks to her right. Following her gaze I see Nigel, fast asleep on the couch. The sight of him makes me smile, no matter how I'm feeling, and today is no different. I am incredibly in love with my dog. I don't think most people love their dogs as much as I do Nigel. "Little bugger wouldn't leave your Dad alone when he went to get clothes," Mom smiles. Violet looks at Dad and nods slightly. Dad bends down and kisses me.

"I'll be back, baby. I love you."

He and Addison leave, and Violet takes his spot on my left, while Mom remains, unwavering, on my right, my hand in hers.

"How are you feeling, Kati," Violet asks. Her question has nothing to do with my physical wounds. My eyes feel as though they are constantly full of tears.

"I don't understand," I say after a few moments of silence. My voice won't lose that just-woke-up raspy quality.

"Sometimes, when things are really difficult, our minds kind of revolt against the information," she explains. "It's completely normal to feel that way. Especially when we lose someone so close to us."

I glance at Mom and she looks so incredibly heartbroken that it hurts my chest. For someone so tough, me being in pain is the one thing that breaks her. When my appendix burst three years ago, I thought she was the one in pain as I lay there screaming and she had a constant stream of tears, following my gurney all the way into the operating room until Dad pulled her out and made her watch from outside. Even doctors can't be in the same room as their family when they are patients. Now, she holds my hand up to her lips and doesn't let go.

"I was mad at her," I say quietly. "She was drunk." I can't bear to look at my mother; this is exactly one of the things she had been so scared of, and to imagine them getting the phone call that I'd been brought into the hospital must have been horrible. Especially after waiting when I wasn't home for curfew.

"I didn't know," I start, but a sob breaks my sentence. "Until we were driving. I didn't know." I cover my face with my free hand and feel Violet's hand on my arm and Mom's forehead pressed against the side of my head.

"Oh, baby girl," she whispers. I feel like neither one of us has ever stopped crying. "It's not your fault." But I don't accept this.

"No," I say, slightly angry. "I should have known. I should have realized."

"Kati, listen to me," Violet begins. "I understand why you feel that way, but in no way are Jamie's actions your fault. Your responsibility was you." But the way she and Mom look at each other, they both know that this feeling is not going away anytime soon.

The next day I wake up with a terrible headache. My face has felt so weird for the past few days, and I know it must be swollen. My entire head feels shaken up. I must have moaned because the person in the bed three inches from mine sits up quickly and reaches for me.

"What hurts, baby?" It's Mom. Of course. Of course she's been sleeping at the hospital, moving a bed so close that she can hear me breathing. Then I see that Dad is asleep with Nigel on the couch.

"My head," I croak. She opens a drawer and injects something into my IV. Within moments I feel a warmth spread through the pain, dissolving it. The painkillers make me loopy.

"Holy shhhirt sleeves," I breathe, catching myself before swearing, because Mom hates it. She laughs slightly, tossing the syringe in the garbage.

"Nice save, sugar," she smiles.

"This is why people become drug addicts," I say lazily, even though I know Mom had an issue with painkillers during her residency.

"Don't even think about it," she says, coming around to the left side of my bed. The room is bright, our sleep patterns seem to have become scattered. It could be the afternoon; I have no idea. "I'm gonna change these bandages, baby," Mom says, checking over the wound. "Best do it now while you're in the clouds." She grins at me and I smile drunkenly.

"Did you say stitches?" I ask, frowning.

"Um, I did yesterday," she replies, removing bandages. My high demeanor is amusing her.

"Who did it? Them? Who sewed?"

"I did," she replies, focusing on her task.

"Whaaat?" I frown, really baffled. "That, is hiiigghhly illegal." Mom laughs and shakes her head. "How did you manage that?"

"Sometimes, you don't take 'no' for an answer," she replies.

I snort a breathy laugh, smiling. "Sometimes. You scare the shhiiit out of your subordinates."

Mom backs away from her work and looks at me, incredulous but smiling slightly. "I beg your pardon," she says, feigning an indignant look. But I just snicker and my head falls to one side.

"Careful, baby," she steadies my head. "I'm workin' here." She finishes removing the bandages, cleans the wound and applies new bandages.

"Mama," I say, using the name I use only when I'm sick or in pain.

"Yeah, baby," she says, throwing the old bandages away.

"I want to see," I say clumsily. She turns and looks at me, knowing exactly what I mean. "Please," I say, looking at her. She thinks for a second and then looks over and realizes that Dad is awake, and lying there watching us. He nods slightly, and Mom goes and gets a mirror from a drawer. She comes to stand in front of me and turns the mirror around slowly. It's worse than I thought. The entire left side of my face is swollen, red and purple. My eyes are completely blacked out, and there's a cut near my lip. My hand absently reaches up and gently pushes my cheek. It feels like my face is a giant bruise. The bandages begin just above my eyebrow and extend towards the side of my head. My hair is pinned back, and I'm grateful they didn't have to shave the hair off.

"How many?" I ask. Mom knows what I'm talking about.

"64," she replies quietly, her arms folded across her chest, watching me.

"_When__I'm__64..._" I sing quietly, so loopy, still examining my head. I want to see, but she just bandaged it, so I decide to wait until the next time they're changed. I feel slightly sobered up, even though I know I'm still high from the drugs.

"Won't even leave a scar," Mom promises, coming and taking the mirror.

"How did you even manage...," I begin, frowning at the image of my mother, violently sobbing, holding a needle and sutures.

"I don't know," she replies, honestly, pushing her bed away and pulling up a chair. "I just had to. I felt kind of numb, and just did what I had to do. I couldn't trust someone else with this face." She smiles, touching my cheek.

"Afterwards, though...that's when she fell apart," Dad says, getting up from the couch, disturbing Nigel. Mom doesn't even object, and Dad bends down to kiss her and then me. "I'll take Nigel out; find him some food." But Nigel, having slowly slid off the couch, is standing beside my bed, staring up at me. He always knows when something is wrong, and Dad said he had refused to get in the car since being at the hospital.

"He'll eat and go outside, but take him near the car, and he won't move," he said, after lifting Nigel onto my bed for the first time since the accident. Having him there, snoozing with me for a couple hours, had made me feel safer.

"That little Baconator sure loves you," Mom says, all of us looking down as he stares up at us. Dad understands and lifts the big guy up so he can sniff my face. I kiss his nose, and he licks my face before Dad takes him out. After they go, Mom goes and brushes her teeth and washes her face, coming back in fresh clothes. She's checking my IV bags when a question that's been burning rises to the surface.

"Mom," I say quietly, less loopy and more numb.

"Mmm," she mumbles, changing a bag.

"Did she...did she suffer?"

She stops, her hands still around the bag she's just hung, and looks at me before sitting down and taking my hand.

"No, baby," she promises, my cheek in her hand. "She didn't feel any pain. It was instant."

A couple of hot tears slip out of my eyes and I nod, studying the fabric of my blanket. It's one from home; Dad must have brought it.

"The way she turned the wheel," Mom begins. "She took the impact. It protected you." Her eyes are full again, and I know she's hurting for Jamie, and her father, but even more I know she's imagining what might have been. We're quiet for a few minutes, my hand in hers as her thumb rubs the top of my hand. "I love you so much, Kati," she says quietly, almost a whisper. Because any louder and her voice would crack and betray her.


	6. Chapter 6

After a week, and I'm pretty sure this is only because of having doctors for parents, I'm allowed to go home. I feel like I'm watching myself from above. I think about Jamie all the time, but I don't think of her dead-I think of her alive. At home. Waiting for me to come over. Yet I know she's gone. I feel the emptiness inside me, and it's dark and deep and it scares me. I should have stopped her. But I believed she'd get us home, and we'd get in trouble for being late, and I'd be angry with her and we'd fight, and then it would all be over. We'd watch movies and paint our toenails and read trashy magazines, making fun of the Kardashians and Lindsay Lohan. I'm scaring my parents, I know, but I can't pretend to be something I'm not. I'm not okay, and I feel like I might never be. Mom hasn't left the hospital, and the only time Dad left was to pick up clothes and stuff for Mom and me. And of course to get Nigel. But since then, they've been here. Violet stops in to see me everyday. I like having her there, but she doesn't understand that Jamie's death actually is partly my fault. I should have known better, and I know it.

Getting to go home feels good. My concussion is no longer making my parents hold their breath, and they can keep an eye on me, and my stitches. I still have blackened eyes, but some of the bruising on my face is less violently purple, and leaning more towards the lavender side, slowly turning to greens and yellows. After we're all packed up and ready to go, Mom changes my bandages before we leave. I'm sitting on the bed when a man slowly approaches the door. I hardly recognize this broken man, so used am I to seeing him dressed in $3000 suits, with fresh hair cuts and Italian leather shoes.

This man is disheveled, with a dead look in his eyes. It's George, Jamie's father. Dad senses Mom's tension and grabs her hand, giving her a look that says, 'Go easy'. Mom is angry. With Jamie, understandably, and with George, for neglecting her, even though he had no idea the effect his absence had on his daughter. But Mom also hurts. She loved Jamie, too. But she is a Mama Bear and that anger could easily come out on George. He barely looks up, but when his eyes graze ours, they are red and swollen.

"I...," he begins, and his eyes swim. "I'm so sorry."

I can't bear to see him apologize when his heart is so obviously broken. I go to him and hug him. "It's not your fault," I whisper. He cries and clings to me, and I feel his pain sink into me, making me feel even more heavy, numb.

"Kati," Mom says after a moment. I let go and she takes my hand. She's angry and sad, tears flooding her eyes. "I am truly sorry for your loss, George. But she nearly killed my child...and that'll take some time for me to handle."

She pulls me gently from the room and I see no shock or fury in George's face. Only...agreement. Shame. Heart ache.

"I'm glad Kati's alright," he says quietly, and Mom stops. She turns and looks him in the eye, and I can see how sorry she is for his pain. Despite the fact that she has never liked him very much, she is not a cold woman. Still, she cannot forgive him this. She turns and we walk away. I hear Dad speaking quietly to George and when I glance back, he's grasping George's hand, speaking his condolences to the shattered man. We turn a corner and I can't see them anymore. Instead I'm greeted by the nurses who tried, when Mom allowed, to help tend to me. They smile and wish me well as I thank them. Stepping outside is like bliss. It's sunny and warm and a brilliant change from the hospital room. We reach the car and Mom loads stuff into the back. I can't get in.

"You okay, baby?" Mom asks, coming around from the back of the car. I squint in the sunlight, glancing at her in silence. But she knows. When Dad gets outside with Nigel and another duffel bag, he puts it in the car and then stands on the other side of me.

"It's okay, honey," he says, rubbing my back. "Take your time. And then we'll go home and you can relax in your own space, okay?"

I nod, and have to force myself to take a deep breath and slowly get into the backseat where Mom has opened the door.

Before she closes it she eyes me. "You okay? You're looking pale, sugar."

"My head," I reply. She nods, touches my head and closes the door gently.

"I'll give you some morphine at home, baby." I know it's hard for her to be around the painkillers-she mostly gets Dad to administer the drugs. Still, she is constantly worried about the pain. I nod and exhale, closing my eyes and trying to remind myself that everything is fine; Mom is driving and we'll get home fine. I pet Nigel, lying on the seat beside me with his head on my leg. Mom keeps glancing at me in the rearview mirror so I close my eyes again, hoping it makes me look less tense. A few minutes into the drive a passes us quickly and cuts us off, causing Mom to brake. Not harshly, but enough to make my heart burst into furious beating.

I don't even realize I'm screaming until I feel Dad gripping my knee, trying to talk to me, and suddenly Mom, having put the car in park, is climbing into the back seat.

I keep screaming, "Stop" until she has me enveloped against her, talking right into my ear, hushing me and whispering that everything is okay.

"You're okay, baby," Dad soothes. I try to calm down, listening to them and breathing.

"You better get us home, Coop," Mom says after a few moments. He looks at me worriedly but climbs into the driver's seat.

"I'm going to take us home, okay honey?" He looks back at me. I nod, still breathing loudly and trying to listen to Mom. She doesn't let go of me for the entire ride home. Poor Nigel is so confused, especially after we park in the driveway and nobody moves. But I move, and Mom can tell that I need to get out of the car. Outside, I feel better. Less constricted.

"Come on," Mom rubs my back. "I'm sure there's a documentary with the Freedman name on it."

On the front porch there are bouquets of flowers and balloons everywhere.

"People have been dropping things off for the past week," Dad explains as we get nearer the front door. Being inside is both comforting and weird. The last time I was here, so was Jamie. I feel as though I have the longest way to go, in every way. Even the walk to the stairs seems too long, and the idea of walking up them makes me tired. Mom and Dad start unpacking the groceries that Dad picked up, so I sneak away and slowly start climbing the stairs. I guess it's not really sneaking when you're being watched like a hawk. But they grant me this privacy as I go to my room. All of Jamie's stuff-her backpack of clothes and makeup and shoes-is gone. Dad must have taken it all away so I wouldn't have to come home to it. But my own makeup, which we used that night, is still spread messily across my vanity table. The pictures of us from over the years are still plastered to the mirror and the walls. I'm glad he left them alone. Out of habit, I reach up to sling my back off my shoulder. But there is no bag. I realize that it was probably destroyed or lost in the accident.

I'd overheard Dad talking with Addison and Violet, telling them that he'd seen the Range Rover, and it was totaled. "Nothing salvagable," he'd said. I have no wallet, or phone, or anything. Dad, no doubt, has already cancelled my credit card and phone; taken care of everything. Sure enough, I look over and see a brand new iPhone box on my bed, 'XO Mom & Dad' scrawled across the top in Sharpie. The gesture brings a small smile to my face. I sigh and sit on the bed, having no idea what to do next.

I notice Mom in the doorway, and she holds up a grey Coach bag. She smiles and comes to sit on the bed.

"Can you believe your daddy picked this out?"

I smile as she hands it to me. "He's learning," I say quietly.

"Hey," he appears. "I heard that." He comes and lays on the bed, picking up the bag. "Did you guys know that, like, this is THE bag of the season? Seriously, dude, you are like, the best dad ever." His silly Valley-girl imitation always makes me laugh, or at least smile. He's such a dork, I can't help it.

"Thanks, Dad," I hug him.

Later on we create a cloud of blankets and fall into the couch to watch movies. I finally feel like I can sleep a normal sleep, finally comfortable at home without the hum of hospital around me. I lay in Mom's lap as she strokes my hair and fall asleep before I even know what movie we're watching. I wake up to Nigel kicking himself onto his back and sighing loudly. Such a bed hog. I'm in my own bed-Dad must have carried me up-and I look over and see Mom, fast asleep beside me. I was having a dream but I can't remember it now. I just feel scared and too warm. It's dark outside, so I kick the blankets off and fall back asleep. When I wake again it's light out and sunlight is bouncing off of my purple walls. Mom's gone and I can hear her and Dad downstairs in the kitchen. Nigel, of course, remains fast asleep, taking up as much of the bed as he can, now that Mom isn't sleeping in what is typically his spot. I feel like I've been asleep for a week. My body is stiff and craves stretching. For a second I think I have to get up and go to yoga, a typical weekend activity, but my mind rejects the idea, not wanting to see any other people. I climb out of bed and slowly make my way to the bathroom and brush my teeth. Nigel is up when I walk out, yawning and licking his lips, looking refreshed.

"Downstairs?" I ask, and he slowly gets up, stretches, and gets off the bed. We go downstairs and are greeted by Mom and Dad in the kitchen.

"Hey, baby," Mom smiles. "How'd you sleep?" She pushes a lock of hair behind my ear.

"Okay...why are you making pasta for breakfast?" I ask, confused.

Dad laughs. "It's 6:30, honey. Evening. You've been asleep for 24 hours."

"Whaaat?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes.

"You need rest, baby girl," Mom says, getting plates. "And a real meal. You hungry?"

I'm not, but telling her would be useless as she'd make me eat something anyways. I just shrug.

"Have a little, honey," Dad shrugs. "It's Jambalaya spaghetti." He grins and raises his eyes quickly, making me smile. And just sitting down for dinner, something so common and comforting, makes me feel safe and calm.

I spent the next four days in near silence. Mom talks, Dad talks, sometimes I answer. Mostly I nod, or shake my head, or shrug. I feel emptied of the person I was.

"Coop, the only thing she's eaten in three days is a spoonful of peanut butter and a smoothie. She can't keep going like this," I overhear Mom when they think I'm asleep on the couch.

"I know," he sighs. After a moment he adds, "I'm calling Violet."

The doorbell rings. It's rung several times since we've been home; people bringing flowers or Get Well gifts and candy. This time it doesn't sound like one of my friends.

"Can I come in for a second?" I hear George. But no response. "Please, Charlotte. It's important."

The door closes and I hear footsteps and a greeting from Dad as he gets off the phone.

"How've you been holding up?" he asks.

"Well, I'm alright...I suppose. I actually came to talk to you about Jamie's funeral."

My eyes flick open and I listen intently.

"When is it?" Mom asks, softer.

"Well, she's been cremated," he replies. This stops my heart. Jamie literally does not exist anymore. Anywhere. I never even got to see her one last time.

"It's what she wanted," George continues. "I don't know of many 16-year-olds who have a plan for their own funerals, but...Jamie did." He pauses, his voice having quavered on the last words. "Anyway, I've been putting off the funeral...until Kati can be there."

This enormous courtesy causes a lump to form in my throat.

"Y'know, Jamie talked about everything, even her own funeral. And when I told her she was talking nonsense she said she was being realistic. That someone who was planning on spending the year after high school sky-diving and cliff-diving across South America needed to have these plans...I guess she was right."

I know all of this. I remember everything Jamie ever said about her own funeral. "

She also wanted Kati to, um, to sing. For her."

"Look, George," Mom begins, but I stand up so fast my head rushes.

"I'll do it," I say, the most I've spoken in days.

"Kati," Mom says, looking pained.

"I'll do it," I repeat, tears pooling my eyes, although I feel like they are permanently watery. "I have to."

I glance at George and then go upstairs, leaving them staring. I know the song she wanted. We'd had this morbid conversation a couple of years ago when her favourite band came out with the song. I don't even remember how the subject of funeral came up, but it did, and she was adamant. I get my guitar and sit on my bed with my iPod, ready to perfect the song I haven't played in a long time. Singing in front of people makes me nervous, but suddenly I feel as though I have this important task that needs my undivided attention. Mom and Dad appear after several minutes.

"When is it?" I ask, tuning my strings.

"Friday," Mom replies. Six days. "Baby, are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure," I reply, thinking before I add, "I have to."

"You know you can't talk her out of this one," Dad says quietly to her. "No one could have talked you out of Nana's eulogy."

When Mom's grandma died almost six years ago, she had to do the eulogy. She was so upset over losing her grandmother, but she held it together. I was 10 at the time, and I sang 'Hallelujah'. I was devastated over losing Nana, but my voice didn't crack once, I was so serious about doing this one last thing, for Nana. But as soon as I got offstage after the song, I ran to my parents on the pew and broke down, sobbing. Before I sang, Mom told me that the dead deserve our respect, and we should do what we have to do for them, and cry later. Mom doesn't cry much, and according to Dad she never used to cry at all. But when something so significant happens, even she can't maintain that composure forever. I feel like the void inside me is growing, and I don't want it to burst when I'm doing this for Jamie. So I need to do the same thing for Jamie. Hold myself together, and cry later.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day Violet comes over. She's been coming to see me every few days. We talk about nothing, and then we talk about everything.

"So your dad told me about the funeral."

"Friday," I reply, nodding.

"I think it's a very brave and beautiful thing that you want to do for Jamie."

"I have to. I mean, I want to...but I have to. I owe her. A lot more than a song."

"How do you mean?" Violet asks.

"I should have known before we got in the car...I'm supposed to be dead, too."

"Kati," she says sadly.

"No," I cut her off, picking at the fabric on the blanket over me. "It's true. We were both in that car. We both should have died. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't! But I am. I'm fine, and she's nothing but ashes now, and whose fault is that?"

I don't realize I'm yelling until Dad is there trying to talk to me. But I stand up and toss the blanket to the floor, running upstairs, passing Mom as she comes out of their bedroom.

"Baby," she starts, but I slam my door and hit my iPod to start music, and hide myself on the floor of my closet, in the corner. I feel like I might hyperventilate, and I hate this feeling of overwhelming panic and anger. The music is so loud that I don't hear the door open and close. I expect her anyway. She finds me easily and slowly sits down beside me, pulling me into her arms, and for the first time since it happened I let myself go completely, as the void breaks within me, and I sob so hard that it hurts.

"I miss her."

"I know you do, baby," she whispers, her hand cupping my head against her chest. "I know."

"Why am I still here? It's not fair!" I can't ignore this question. It bangs against my skull everyday.

"Listen to me," she says fiercely, taking my face in her hands. "You mean the world to your daddy and me. We don't know why terrible things happen. Now I loved Jamie, too. We all did. She was an amazing girl. But I love you more than anything else in the this world, and I am not about to question God as to why he spared MY child." Her eyes are blazing and swimming. "You did nothing wrong, do you hear me? And I don't even want to THINK about what might have happened, because I prayed for you every second, and if you hadn't-" she stops as her voice breaks, and shakes her head. "You are here. And this is exactly where you should be. You did NOTHING wrong. Do you understand me?"

She looks at me hard, and after I moment I nod, tears sliding down my face. I lost my best friend, but she almost lost me. And I didn't realize how scared both of them must have been since that night-that phone call, their worst fear happening.

"This is gonna take time," Mom says softly, her chin hooked over my head, resting on her chest. "But we're gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine. It just takes some time, baby girl."

But I don't think I'll ever be who I was before.

Mom stays with me on the floor until I'm ready to move, and she makes me get into an almost-too-hot bath. I pull my knees up and rest my chin on them and for the first time since I was little, she pours water over my hair and washes it, like I'm 10 again. I feel so needy for her lately, like I'm a year old and clinging to her fingers as I learn to walk. And as mean as she can seem to employees and other people, I have never known that person. To me, she is always Mom-loving and protective and warm, even when the tough love happens, I know she loves me. Dad still thinks of me as a little girl and as much as I hate it sometimes, when I'm campaigning for a later curfew or a dress he thinks is inappropriate, right now this cloud of protection keeps me from falling.


	8. Chapter 8

Friday comes all too soon. I've spent the past six days practicing Pearl Jam's 'Just Breathe' until my fingers felt like they would bleed. But I can play it with my eyes closed now, without thinking. But I need to keep them open, because as soon as they close, all I can see is Jamie.

I pull out a plain black dress from my closet and slip it on before sitting at my vanity and staring down at all the makeup. I have no idea how long I sit before Mom silently comes in, looks at me, and picks up my hairbrush. I barely talk as she pulls my hair into a simple chignon. Dad comes in as she finishes and sits on the bed.

"You ready, sweetie?" I look at him for a second and glance down and see a partially obscured photo on the top of the vanity, covered with mascara and eye shadows. It's Jamie and I, taken a few years ago during a vacation to Hawaii. All I can see is Jamie's face, smiling at me. Always smiling. I turn and nod at Dad.

I stand and stare at the SUV. Violet and I have worked on this. Mom and Dad stand on either side of me, patiently waiting. I silently remind myself to breathe; that I am okay, and even after getting in the car, I will still be okay. After a few minutes and some concentrated breathing, I get into the backseat. To stay calm I think only of the guitar chords in the song. If I can't just concentrate on that, I will be fine.

The church we pull up to is beautiful and old-fashioned with a pointed steeple, vaulted ceilings and stained glass. George's parents are religious, but he raised Jamie to choose her spirituality herself, and she was pretty agnostic. She loved this old church, though. She thought it was "beautifully creepy". There are cars parked down both streets. This is the first time I've been anywhere since the accident, and seeing people everywhere seems odd. I see school friends everywhere. Teachers, old soccer coaches and dance teachers, Jamie's guitar teacher, her stuck-up cousin Maria. Second cousin, as Jamie would have me say.

"Whenever you're ready, honey," Dad says softly, shutting off the car. I sit for a few moments, safe behind the tinted glass. I see my reflection, the thin line of stitches on my forehead, hidden as best as possible by Mom. Finally I open the door and slowly get out. Mom makes sure she's out before me while Dad gets my guitar. People turn and look at me, sadly or with curiosity, and I'm glad I'm wearing sunglasses. Mom squeezes my hand and we make our way toward the entrance.

The church is so full that they start seating people in other rooms, wheeling in TVs so they can air the feed live through the entire funeral home. George is at the door when we step inside, and his expression is a painful mixture of heartache, and happiness to see me. He smiles slightly and hugs me before leading us to a private room where we'll wait until family is asked to come in. This gesture makes all three of us feel touched. Jamie's grandparents are there, and they hug me and tell me how glad they are to see me. I've only met them a couple of times. I opt for silence in response, as I'm unsure what to say. Instead I look out a window at the cemetery and pond outside. The unreal feeling of the day helps stop me from crying, but before I know it we're walking down the middle of the church to the front pew, as everything stands around us. When we sit, Mom holds my hand as my eyes stare blankly in front of me.

The pastor begins, speaking of Jamie as though he knew her; saying things others have told him. There's a table at the front with the urn, pink roses and several pictures; two of the both of us. I can't listen, I only think of Jamie. Of how she'd tell me to smile and sing. Sometime later George delivers the eulogy. He has a hard time and my eyes feel raw, but I refuse to cry. I hear my name and realize I have to sing. For Jamie, I tell myself.

Mom kisses my cheek and Dad squeezes my hand, and then I stand up. But I don't feel like I'm here. I take my guitar from George and, through bright red eyes, he thanks me. Numbly, I approach the stool and sit down, adjusting my guitar. I don't glance up at the room; I feel everyone watching me and I hate it so much that I want to leave. But I think of Jamie and I feel intensely sure that she is with me, playing this as a duet. I realize this image will get me through this. I take a slow breath as I adjust once more and glance up as I begin to play, seeing my parents smile encouragingly through their glassy eyes.

The whole time I'm singing, I feel Jamie play along. I don't look at anybody, I just look away, out the window. When I'm done I hear people sniffle and cry as I stand up, feeling tired and numb and like I can't stay anymore. Like I made it through the song, and that is all I can take, because I can feel a sob crawling up my throat. I manage to set my guitar into its stand before I turn and bolt down the aisle, past the sea of faces, and out into the inappropriately beautiful air.

I don't know where I'm going, I just run as the first sob breaks through and brings endless others. I cross a field of tombstones and colorful bouquets until I reach a pond surrounded by willowy trees, and collapse on my knees as every sob racks my body. It feels as though I'll never stop. I don't hear them approach, but I'm lifted into Dad's arms as Mom strokes my hair and kisses my forehead, and we walk to the car and go home.

The next few weeks pass slowly. I sleep. A lot. I pretend to watch movies with Mom and Dad, but my mind is never here. It's somewhere else, and I can't help it. Mom tries everything to get me to eat, making all of my favorites. But I'm never hungry. I can't eat. I can't remember what hunger feels like; just emptiness. People stop by, asking to see me, but Mom regretfully says no, even though I know she wishes someone could wake me up. Dad picked up my homework when I asked, and for awhile I make myself think only of quadratic equations and organic chemistry and English literature. I've missed over a month of school. It's May now and I don't even care if I pass my junior year. I'm an A-student, but the idea of going to school terrifies me. I don't want anything that reminds me of Jamie, except everything does.

One day I'm asleep on the couch, burrowed into Dad when the doorbell rings. I don't open my eyes until I hear a surprised,

"Mama," followed by, "What are you doing here?"

Then I hear the thicker Southern accent that always half-terrifies all three of us.

"Well that is no way to greet your mother, Charlotte," Grandma replies. "I am here to see my grandchild, since no one responds to phone calls anymore. And it's a good thing I came," she drawls. "You look like day-old dishwater."

The door closes and I turn my head to look up at Dad. We make eye contact with the same expression: Oh God. I wish I had fallen asleep upstairs. I love my Grandma, but she is, and always has been, extremely hard on Mom, and she can be a bit overbearing and stuck up.

"Thanks, Mama," Mom replies drily, and they walk farther into the house. I glance up again and see that Dad has taken the Pretend You're Asleep route. I follow suit.

"Now where is my grandchild?" Grandma demands.

"She is restin', Mama," Mom replies, already annoyed.

Grandma must see Dad's head from the entryway to the kitchen because her heels click closer.

"Blessed Jesus, Charlotte, are you starvin' that poor child? She's so skinny she'll have to run around in the shower to get wet!"

"She is grievin', Mama," Mom replies, her accent thickening as it always does when she's around her parents or brothers. "You know as well as I do that you can't make Kati do somethin'," she adds, and I can tell she's irritated. Dad says one of her quickest fires starts when someone starts on her about me, or her parenting abilities.

"Well," Grandma says. "You can lead a horse to water..."

Grandma, like Mom, has an endless supply of Southern phrases. All of them hilarious. I guess Dad feels bad for the leaving Mom to handle Grandma alone, because he pretends to wake up, yawning.

"Evaline," he says, gently moving me to stand up so he can kiss her cheek. "What a surprise. Did you just get in?"

"Cooper, why does my grandchild look like she's starvin'?" Grandma asks by way of a greeting.

"She's fine, Evaline," he replies.

"Well I guess I'll take the word of a couple of doctors over the sight of that skeletal girl."

I feel guilty for leaving my parents to deal with her alone, so I open my eyes tiredly to find them all staring at me.

"Oh, you're awake," Grandma says, coming to sit on the couch and hug me. I look over her shoulder at Mom's unimpressed face and Dad's fake smile.

"Hi, Grandma," I say, and she pulls away to look at me. "Child, you look exhausted. What are they feedin' you here?"

Based on Grandma's demeanor, it's easy to see why Mom was a rather guarded person growing up, and even when she first met Dad. She only ever had a snobby, non-maternal mother, and I'm so glad she is nothing like that with me.

"I'm fine, Grandma," I reply, tiredly, running a hand over my forehead. Grandma is already looking where she knows I had stitches, and where only a thin white line remains.

"Well, what a beautiful job the doctor did on your forehead, sugar," she touches the scar.

"Mom did it," I say. Grandma reappraises the scar.

"Well," she says smiling. "Nothing could ruin this face."

Mom rolls her eyes and Dad kisses her forehead to calm her.

"Now, you need to eat, sugar," Grandma says, getting up. She may have grown up with cooks and maids and still have a house staff today, but the woman can cook, and made sure Mom learned how as well.

"Grandma, I'm not really-"

"Oh, nonsense, child," she waves a hand. "There's always room for Nana's cornbread and salad."

I close my eyes as Grandma heads to the kitchen. Mom comes and kisses my forehead, looking apologetic.

"Well, ain't this a right nice surprise," Dad whispers in a mock-Southern accent. Mom stifles a laugh and hits his arm, and I can't help but smile.

Grandma makes her mother's cornbread and whips up a salad while talking non-stop about Big Daddy and my uncles, Landry and Duke.

"I told him not to marry her," she says, cooking and gossiping as we sit around the kitchen island drinking lemonade.

"Oh, Mama, Duke can make up his own mind," Mom defends her little brother. "Emma loves him, and having one too many chardonnays does not make her a tramp."

Grandma clearly does not agree. She is hard on my uncle's wives, but our family seems used to her behaviour. I'm sure aunt Emma was only drinking to keep her mouth full and quiet. She's been known to sound off when Grandma goes on too long. She and Duke have two boys, Cadence and Wyatt. Landry also married a Southern girl, Celia, and they have two boys as well, Colby and Elliott. They all live in Alabama, so Grandma is far more caught up on their gossip. She had demanded to fly over and see me after the accident, but Mom had held her off as long as possible. I think Grandma takes it personally that Mom moved away to go to med school, and never came back.

"Well, anyways," Grandma says, dusting off her hands. "Your brothers may give me trouble, but at least they're around. I don't see THEM only twice a year."

"Mama," Mom says, shaking her head.

"What? I'd like to see my own granddaughter grow up in person. And be around if, heaven forbid, she ends up in a precarious situation again. Your daddy would, too."

Mom endures this kind of conversation until her phone buzzes, after we eat.

She and Dad have only been back to work for a week, and it's on an on-call basis-emergencies only. She glances at me, still worried about not being home with me.

"Go," I nod. "I'm fine. I promise."

"I'm right here, Charlotte. I can take care of my own grandchild."

Mom gives her a Look she doesn't see, and comes to kiss Dad and I.

"You text me, okay?" she says, and I nod. "See you later, Mama," she says and heads out.

Mom did not grow up with hugs and kisses. She was raised to be strong and fend for herself, and typically her little brothers as well. Big Daddy was affectionate with her, but Mom is his favorite and always has been. She and Grandma, though, do not show affection towards each other. It used to make me sad, but Dad told me once what Mom was like when he first met her, and it made me realize that she gets all the love and affection she needs from us. She doesn't expect anything different from her mother anymore.

I'm glad Mom gets to escape, but I'm too tired to handle anymore conversation, so I say I need a nap.

"I thought later we could go shopping, sugar? Just us girls?"

I stammer slightly as I head towards the stairs. "Oh, um...maybe," I shrug, and go upstairs.

I hear Dad as I reach my room. "We're still working on the whole car thing," he explains.

But as different as Grandma is with me than with mom, she is still all about tough love and sucking up pain.

"Well the child needs to move on, Cooper. She can't stay in this house forever."

I ignore whatever she's about to say next, shutting my door and playing guitar so I can't hear anything else.

Grandma stays for three days. The day she leaves, we're sitting in the sunroom because she says I "need some sun".

"I reckon it's about time you take a step forward, sugar," she says, looking out over the hills behind the back yard. I don't say anything.

"Look, baby," she says, touching my knee and looking at me. "I'm not saying it's easy. I should like to think it's about as hard as trying to steer a herd of cats. But you can't just expect things to get easier. It's not the time, it's what you do with it. Grab the bull by the tail and face the situation."

Her blue eyes look at my kindly. I look down and nod slowly, examining my fingers.

"Besides, you think that girl wants you sitting at home, feeling like this? She loved you. And I know you wish she was here, but if wishes were horses, beggars would ride, baby. Live your life. You just remember how many people love you, and want you to be happy."

I know she's right, and I try to smile through wet eyes. She smiles and then gets up, kisses my forehead and is gone.


	9. Chapter 9

School ends, and I'm sent a letter notifying me that I passed the eleventh grade, despite my absence. I suppose the work Dad brought for me, and having a 4.0 in all of my AP courses, helps. Those hours of forcing my mind to think only of homework were blissful. I doubt I'll ever spend longer than 10 minutes without her bombarding my thoughts, but I don't burst into tears every time now. She's been gone for three months, and I'm slowly getting used to not physically seeing her. She is part of me, and it's permanent. But I'll never get to see her again, and I know that. Mom and Dad and Grandma were right-Jamie wouldn't want me to feel like this. She'd drag me out of bed and force me to the beach or the mall or the paintball course. For the first time in forever, I don't feel empty and numb. I don't feel the same, but I feel a little more like myself.

I wake up a few days after Grandma leaves and feel like she's right; I need to make a few steps forward. I shower and, for the first time since the funeral, I don't just pull on sweat pants. I find a pair of green cargo pants and white t-shirt, comb out my messy curls and even put on a bit of mascara. It's old, I realize, and needs to be replaced, but it's something. When I get downstairs Mom and Dad are in the kitchen having coffee with patient files spread out around them. Mom looks up and sees me.

"Hey, baby," she smiles. I say good morning and get some orange juice.

"Hey, gorgeous," Dad says, kissing my forehead.

"Are you going to work today?" I ask. Mom glances at Dad. "I may have to check in on a few things," she says tentatively. I know she's thinking I'll ask her to stay home, and she would, but she stops herself because she's trying to get me to move myself forward too.

"I'm gonna come," I say, looking down at my juice and then back up to see them look away from each other, and back at me.

"I think that's a great idea, baby," Mom smiles, and kisses me on her to set her cup in the sink.

The practice my parents work at is in Oceanside. It's right by the boardwalk and I've spent endless afternoons there after school while growing up, doing homework and absently being privy to their conversations about patients, husbands, boyfriends and scandalous gossip. The gossip there is worse than high school.

I refuse to sit in the front seat of a car yet, so I hop into the backseat and busy myself with a book, to distract myself from the fact that I'm in a car.

When we get to the office the first person we see is Violet, coming out of the kitchen. She smiles when she sees me.

"Kati," she cries, hugging me. "I'm so proud of you."

I smile, and she asks if I want to come visit while she waits for her first patient. So Mom and Dad head to their offices and I sink into one of Violet's couches.

"So, how does it feel? Being out?"

"It feels...good. Normal...ish. I feel like...I don't know. Like I kind of woke up, but I'm still fuzzy. Sometimes I feel like I might be okay...and then a day later I can feel so...angry. If that makes sense."

"It makes sense," she replies. "So how are you feeling about school? Senior year coming up."

I shrug after a moment. "I'm not sure."

"Do you feel like seeing your friends? Or that being at school will be too difficult?"

"It'll be hard...really hard."

"And your friends? Have you seen them?"

After a second I shake my head. "They come by, but I haven't...I haven't wanted to see anyone."

"They probably miss you. Don't you think?"

"Yes," I agree. "I just don't know if I can be someone's friend right now. Y'know, be a good friend to someone."

"Do you think people expect something of you?"

"I don't know. I guess they'll expect me to be...me. But I'm not. Not really, anymore."

"People change, Kati. When terrible things happen, it has a huge effect on a person. But you're still you. You're still Kati. Don't you think your friends realize that?"

"Some," I nod. "But I'm not sure I can be...fun, anymore. I can never replace Jamie. How can I be a good enough friend for anyone?"

"No one will ever replace or make up for Jamie. And that's okay. But do you think it's important to be around friends? Ones that love you, and want to see you and just talk to you? Hang out?"

Of course I've wanted a friend lately. But only one, and she's gone. I think Violet knows this.

"How about you try? Just one person. The next person who comes by, or calls, just talk to them. Do you think that could be good?"

I think for a second, and as much as I want to say no, I know she's right. I have to do things, to feel like myself again. I smile, small, and nod. Then we talk about lighter topics, like which classes I'm taking senior year, until someone knocks on her door. It's her patient, so I give Violet a hug and go over to the kitchen.

Pete, Violet's husband, Addison, Sam and Amelia are already there, and they smile as I come in.

"Hey, you!" Amelia cries and comes to give me a hug. "You look great!" She moves my hair to look at the thin white scar.

"Barely a scar," she grins. "Your mother may be terrifying, but the woman has a way with sutures."

"Why thank you, Dr. Shepherd," Mom says, walking in and smiling.

"Just making an observation, Charlotte," Amelia replies, rolling her eyes.

"A keen one at that," Mom agrees, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "Now please, don't fill my child's head with all of your nonsense gossip." She passes me, kisses my forehead and heads back to her office to work.

Everyone asks questions, like how I've been, as I settle onto one of the stools. I realize I've missed them. They've been friends with my parents since before I was born, and are like aunts and uncles to me .

"Gossip," Addison scoffs, in response to Mom's comment. "We do NOT gossip. We just...discuss. Things." She sips her coffee.

"And each other," I add. "And patients."

"Yes, each other, but we're all friends! We care about each other. And our patients...the nice ones."

I laugh, pulling out a small stack of books and magazines that I brought in my bag. "That's gossip," I say. "Salacious, juicy gossip."

Addison looks at me for a second, half-smiling. "Well-" she starts.

"What were you talking about before I came in here," I ask.

After a second Addison gives in. "Naomi. But she's our friend! We were discussing her new boyfriend, and the whole moving-to-Canada thing. It's not bad! We love Naomi!"

I laugh, opening a magazine.

"Alright, it's gossip." she concedes, and everyone chuckles.

"Carry on," I say. "I've heard it all, since I was seven."

Sam playfully yanks a lock of my hair as gets up to leave, laughing. It feels good to be somewhere comfortable and normal, with people who don't look at me weirdly or expect me to talk, which is how I'm afraid people at school would be.

Throughout the morning people come and go as I make my way through National Geographic, Scientific American Mind and InStyle. Near lunch time, Addison, Mom and Violet are all in here as I decide which Coach bag is the ugliest of the season.

"My twelve-year-old patient wants birth control," Dad bursts into the room. Everyone but me looks at him. "And her mother is advocating this!"

"Well, did they say why? Is it to treat cramping, low-iron or irregularity?" Addison asks from over my shoulder. She points at a dark caramel handbag. "This one," she says.

"Disgusting," I agree.

"Yeah," Dad says emphatically. "Just in case." He uses his fingers to denote his mocking tone.

"In case what?" Violet asks. "Is she or isn't she?"

"She says no. She says she thinks it will help her skin look nicer."

"Does she have problem skin?" Addison asks.

"No, not really. Average teenage skin, I guess?"

"Maybe it embarrasses her, but there are topical products for that..." Addison frowns.

"She's already having sex," I breathe, turning a page as the room becomes silent. I look up and see Dad staring at me, and then realize everyone is.

"What?" I say to Mom.

"What makes you say that?" she asks.

"Most girls I know don't even know how reproduction works, and have been on the pill since starting to actually have sex, because a doctor filled them in on the details. If she's 'thinking' of having sex, she'd go get some free condoms from the guidance counselor. If she wants the prescription, she's already used the free condoms. Or no condoms at all," I explain, turning another page of my magazine.

I look up and everyone is still staring. Violet and Addison look intrigued; Mom and Dad look scared.

"How-" Dad begins. "I mean, you don't..." I roll my eyes.

"Dad," I put my forehead on the table for a second and then look up, exasperated. "We have had this conversation. Several times! I know what she's doing because you force me to interact with moronic girls on a nine-month-per-year basis. This girl is 12? She's doing it. Do you know how many girls in my seventh-grade class spent their summers losing their virginity? People don't care about waiting anymore. No one thinks sex is sacred, or important, or _anything_really. Teen Mom changed that years ago."

Dad looks like he might throw up, and Mom is trying hard to look fine.

"And I am," I add, annoyed, "as ever, the only virgin in my class, you guys." I roll my eyes and Dad exhales as Mom clears her throat.

"That is not something to roll your eyes about," Mom points at me, puts her mug in the sink and leaves. Probably to go outside and breathe.

Dad comes and holds my face in his hands. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that," he says, kissing my forehead.

"Yes, I do," I reply, back to looking at my magazine. "Every time sex comes up you look like I have three heads."

He kisses me again and leaves to return to his patient.

"God," I sigh. "What are they going to do when I do lose my virginity?"

"Die a little inside," Addison replies.


	10. Chapter 10

Dad is busy through lunch so Mom and I go down to one of our favorite cafes.

As expected, she brings up the earlier conversation. "Sugar, why do you think you're the only virgin in your class?"

"Because I am," I shrug. "Except for Brick Welsh, who can't even breathe around girls, and Jessica Henderson, because she's a feminist lesbian who thinks sex is 'demoralizing'. So that's a fun group to be in."

Mom shakes her head and laughs. "I mean you. Why are you. Personally."

I shrug. "I don't think it's just 'nothing'. I can't justify doing that with just anybody. Plus you and Dad advocate relationships. And you're the only parents I know who are still together and faithful. You guys are still in love. Everyone else's parents are either divorced and slutty, or married, miserable and slutty. And what does that say about a person?" I sip my water.

"Why are you so damn smart?" Mom smiles.

"It's genetic," I reply, teasing her, and she laughs.

"I'm glad," she says. "I mean that you take it seriously. It's not something you want to end up regretting, or be ignorant about."

"I know," I say. "I told you. You guys can trust me."

"I know we can, sugar. It's just nice to hear."

After a moment I smile and say, "Besides, it has to be someone who's able to take a beating from you and a panic attack from Dad."Mom laughs and tosses a napkin at me.

When we get back to the office Dad is in Violet's office and through the window, he looks like he's fired up about something. Mom and I walk to the doorway.

"Cooper?" Mom asks, her brow furrowed.

"My patient? My 12-year-old, seventh-grade patient? She's pregnant," he says, pacing.

"Have you told them?" Mom asks, disturbed.

"Yes," Dad sighs. "They're in my office. 'Deciding'," he mocks.

"Deciding what? Which boarding school she'll be spending the rest of her life in?" I ask.

"I can't believe this," Dad says. "Twelve. When you were twelve all you cared about were books, puppies and soccer," he gestures to me. "How does this happen?"

"Every family is different, Cooper," Violet says. "You can't compare them. And like Kati said earlier, kids today aren't placing much importance on abstinence."

"She can't keep it," he says, his arms akimbo.

"You can't force an abortion, Cooper," Mom supplies.

"I mean adoption," he corrects himself. "It's not even safe for a twelve-year-old to give birth! It's not right!"

"Physically, there are definitely some risks. And her mother must realize that a twelve-year-old is not emotionally ready to be a parent," Mom adds.

"We can't direct," Violet reminds. "We can only guide."

Dad sighs. Mom brushes some hair behind my ear.

"Baby, why don't you go put your daddy's lunch in the fridge?" she says, handing me the sandwich we'd gotten for him. I do as she asks, glancing at Dad's pained face as I leave.

In the kitchen, Addison and Sam are discussing a couple that Addison is treating.

"They're best friends. Literally have been together since junior high. It's beautiful and all they want is a baby," Addison says, taking her lunch from the fridge.

I sit at the island and pull out a book of crossword puzzles.

"Well, let's hope that can happen," Sam says. The

couple obviously has troubles conceiving, otherwise Addison would be treating a pregnancy.

"Tests should be back soon," she says, and I follow her glance over to the her office where I see a couple smiling and talking to each other.

"They look really happy," I say.

"It's almost disgusting how much they love each other," she says.

"Why can't they get pregnant?" I ask.

"Some women just have trouble implanting. Some men have sperm that just doesn't...swim well."

"Maybe her uterus is bogus," I suggest. "Or maybe their fetuses always have crazy mutations, and she miscarries without even realizing! Like demon babies. Or harlequins!" I say, wide-eyed.

"I see you've been reading the books I lent you," she stares at me.

I shrug."That, and Dad and I just watched a documentary on Chernobyl kids. Deformities are fascinating."

Addison makes a face. "His idea of a bedtime story has gotten very grim."

"Hey, it's legit," I say. "The mutations I mean. Maybe their DNA just rejects each other. Hell, maybe they're cousins or something."

She laughs. "So. Summer plans?" She changes the subject.

I shrug. "Not really. Yale is offering some free online courses. I was looking at a molecular genetics class."

She looks unimpressed. "You don't want to go to the beach? Or go to Tahoe? Cabo? With your friends?"

"No," I answer, turning back to my crossword puzzle.

"Kati," she says gently, her hand on my forearm. "I bet they miss you. A lot."

I barely glance up, but then a nurse opens the door and brings Addison a file.

"Bradford results are in," she says and leaves."Alrighty," Addison sighs, opening the file. She starts reading and stops chewing abruptly.

"Cousins?" I say, teasing.

After a second she looks at me."They're brother and sister," she says, looking shocked.

I'm sitting on the other side of the island so I can face Addison's office as she goes in to speak to the Bradfords. Mom walks in and turns to see what I'm staring at.

"What?" she asks, standing beside me.

I have been fully aware and and respectful of the degree of confidentiality patients are promised. I have never told anyone, not even Jamie, the names or personal details of the patients that I've been privy to hearing about. I'm allowed to describe situations, but that's it. Jamie wasn't ever really interested in medical stories, anyways. Her plan had been to be a publicist. For Johnny Depp. Still, I'm allowed to reveal things to my parents.

"That couple in there, trying to figure out why they can't reproduce, are about to be told that the reason why is because they're brother and sister," I answer, and watch as her face takes on the same look of shock and disgust as mine and Addison's had.

We watch as the woman slowly looks horrified, and the man just stares.

"So they had no idea?"

"Nope," I answer. "Must be adopted. Or sperm donor babies."

"You think so?" She's still making a face. "What are the chances?" she asks as Dad walks in.

"Of me having another pregnant twelve-year-old patient in my lifetime?" he asks. "It better be none."

"No, of Hansel and Gretel in there being sperm donor babies," I answer, still watching Addison's office; Mom beside me with her hands on her hips.

"Wait, what?" Dad says, following our gaze. "The Bradfords? What about Hansel and Gretel?"

"Addison's test results say they're brother and sister. That's why they haven't been able to procreate," I reply.

"And they didn't know?" Dad's face gets the Look.

"Nope. So maybe they were separated. Or they're sperm donor babies."

"That would be the cruelest coincidence," Dad frowns. "How likely can that even be?"

"Well, how old are they? Thirty? Thirty-five? How many donor clinics were around in the 70s? I doubt it was such a common thing then. Makes the likelihood a lot higher," I guess, watching as Addison leaves her office and the devastated couple inside it.

"You are a genius," Dad says, staring at me.

"Damn straight," Mom agrees, as Addison walks in.

"So," I say, straight-faced. "Are Donny and Marie still up for a baby? With two heads?"

Addison gives me a look, rolling her eyes but stifling a smile. "I left them to talk for awhile," she rubs her forehead. "You were right, about the sperm donors. How does that even happen? Two women, strangers, using the same donor?"

"Well, Kati figured that out. Before all of us university graduates," Dad replies. "The probability would have been a lot higher back then, when sperm banks were relatively new."

Addison slowly gets an enlightened look. "Oh my god. You're right...that is one messed up coincidence."

"What are they gonna do now? They can't conceive," Mom points out. "They'll never be able to adopt. Or even stay married! How can they even look at each other?"

"Eugghh..." Dad makes a noise, shuddering as the couple kisses in Addison's office.

"Did they understand what 'brother and sister' meant?" I ask, all of us looking disturbed.

"They've been together since they were thirteen," Addison sighs. "They love each other. How do you just alter your heart?"

"By realizing that you share DNA," I reply quietly.

But we all sigh, feeling sorry for every aspect of their situation.

A few hours later, after reading all of my magazines, Addison comes to the kitchen to make tea.

"They're back," she says. Dad, Sam and I look up. "They want to talk."

"Well," Sam says matter-of-factly. "You have the facts. Isn't it better to know? For them?"

"I can't even imagine the...what a disaster," Dad shakes his sighs and goes back to his office.

We nosily observe the silent conversation. The couple is holding hands and a few minutes into the conversation the guy says something loudly and Addison and the woman looked shocked. More shocked, I mean. They say a few more things and then the woman bursts out of the office, following quickly by her brother-husband and Addison. With the door open, we can hear the entire exchange in the hallway.

"You knew!" the woman cries. "You knew and you still..." She looks horrified.

"We have the same feet," he says, defeated, his hands falling to his sides. "We're allergic to the same things...we're the same. I knew it was weird, so I looked into it. Before the wedding. But it didn't change anything!"

"It changes everything!" she yells. "We're brother and sister!" She starts to cry, as though she's finally understanding it all.

"I love you," he says, stepping towards her. But she steps backwards.

"Don't touch me!" she screams. "Get away from me!"

The entire thing is sad, despite how disturbing it is. I hate watching Dell lead the husband away as Addison tries to comfort the couple.

Donny and Marie, as Dad has decided to call them, are our topic of conversation on the way home. It's crazy stuff like this that my parents deal with at work, so bringing humor and lightness into it is important. I try to play a role in the conversation, but as soon as I'm in the car, I become tense and spend most of my energy trying to focus on pointless magazine articles.

Getting home is like taking a breath. But I lasted almost nine hours out today. I'm not wearing sweat pants, my hair is not in a messy ponytail, and I have mascara on. Today can be considered a success, I suppose.

Nigel is waiting at the door for us and he's so excited to see me that he won't go pee outside unless I go outside too. So I stand outside with him in the sun. It's 6:30 and still brilliantly sunny out, so Dad wants to get Thai takeout and eat on the back balcony.

Mom goes to shower and I'm disgusted when Dad follows her into the bathroom, so I go change into some yoga pants and a clean shirt and take my laptop outside onto the balcony. I realize I haven't touched it in months. I open it up and feel a pang in my chest as the desktop image of Jamie and I fills the screen. I change it to one of Nigel and me. I'm still not ready to see her everywhere; she's already all over my room and inside my head constantly. I log into Facebook and am floored to see that I have 473 notifications.

There are a lot of photo tags, people having added and tagged pictures of Jamie, most of which I am in, too. When I click onto my profile I see that everyone I know as left a message on my wall. I had been so afraid that people would be mean. Maybe blame me, like I've been doing...maybe I always will. Instead, people leave loving messages. They miss me, they're glad I'm okay, I should call them back, return texts. I sit and read post after post, tears streaming down my face. I don't even hear Mom come out onto the balcony. She squeezes onto my chair beside me and reads along with me, rubbing my back

."I thought they'd all hate me," I whisper.

"Who could ever hate you, baby girl?" Mom says softly.

We read and must come across a post from Axel at the same time because we both laugh softly. His profile picture is one of him and me during a class trip to a paintball course. We both have paint all over us and have our "game faces" on, acting like we're gangsters or something, because we were the last two left on the field, beating the other team. I love the picture.

"Do you wanna go, sugar?" Mom asks, referring to Axel's post when he asked me to come to a party at his house.

I look at her, surprised."I'm not sure," I reply.

Mom gives me an understanding look and wipes her thumbs over my tears. Dad yells that the food is here, so we head inside to help him bring it outside.


	11. Chapter 11

After realizing that my mascara is dried out, I'm out of shampoo, and I've worn my Ugg boots so much that they look like elephant skin, I decide that a shopping trip is in order. Dad has to go in to work today so Mom and I decide to make a day of it. I'm just about to get dressed when the doorbell rings, and after a moment Mom calls me. I head downstairs to find George standing there with a full set of luggage. Jamie's neon green luggage.

"George," I say, slowing down.

"Hey, Kate," he smiles the smile of someone trying to look happy. "You're looking a lot better."

"So are you," I reply. I glance down at the luggage."This is, uh...Jamie's stuff. Most of it, I mean. I wanted you to have it...Jamie...would have wanted you to have it." He's struggling to speak, hesitating. I glance at Mom, who looks at him sadly.

"George, I-" I start.

"Please, Kati. I can't keep all of it. You have just as much right to her things as I do."

I don't know what to say, and my throat feels tight.

"I'm uh...I'm moving," he says next.

"Moving?" I say stupidly, as though the word is new to me.

"Yeah. To New York. To the other firm."

I feel like there's too much to think about; too many questions swarming my mind.

"When?" I ask, confused.

"Today," he answers. "Now."

It's silent for a moment as I realize that Jamie is nowhere now-even her room is dismantled and gone. Everything left is in these bags.

"I can't stay here. I couldn't stay in that house. This is yours now," he gestures to the luggage. "I'm sorry. I just need to leave."

He looks at me for a moment, and then I nod. He gives Mom a polite nod and turns around. He hesitates at the door and turns back to us.

"Thank you," he says, tears in his eyes. "For giving her more of a family, being there for her when I...wasn't. Thank you for loving her too."

Then he opens the door and is and I stand there. She's in the kitchen and I'm on the last step of the staircase. She looks at me as I stare at the bags.

"Why don't we deal with these later," she says, moving bags into the living room. "You go on and get dressed, sugar."

After a second I turn slowly and walk upstairs. I'm not sure how I feel. Of course I had thought about what George would do with her stuff. And obviously there are things that I had wanted...our scrap books, pictures, her favourite sweater...but I have imagined going there, one last time, and taking a few things myself.

"Maybe this is better," Mom says from my doorway a few minutes later. "Easier."

I nod slowly.

"Come on," she smiles encouragingly. "I've got some serious shoppin' to do."

I smile and go into my closet to grab a cardigan from a hook on the wall, pick up my bag and head downstairs where Mom is waiting near the island, texting. She finishes, drops the phone into her purse and smiles.

"Ready?" she asks.

"Yep," I reply quietly. The car rides are getting easier. I just want the entire feeling of tension to go away, but it's taking it's time. Retail therapy alongside my mother makes me feel better. We browse, stop at a cafe for lunch, and spend too much money. More than she would normally let me spend.

"Maybe I'll dye my hair black," I say as we pass a salon with a huge photo of a girl with blue-black hair.

"Absolutely not," Mom replies.

"Why not? It's a statement of creativity and self," I say.

"You can state your creativity and self in other ways. Sing a song, paint a picture. But I will not allow you to drench your head with chemicals and ruin that perfectly beautiful head of hair," she replies.

"You dye your hair," I counter.

"I am a blonde," she says. "I get highlights. Certain highlights are necessary if you don't want to look right haggard. There's nothin' wrong with your hair. And I'm your Mama and I said no."

"Mom card," I mutter.

"That's right. And I'll play it whenever I see fit." She smiles as I shake my head.

From behind I hear someone say my name. We turn and see Silas jogging towards us. He's the first friend I've seen in over three months.

"Hey," he smiles, reaching us.

"Hey," I reply, slightly surprised.

"You ladies leave anything for the rest of LA?" he grins, eyeing our bags.

"Only the ugly stuff," I reply. "Y'know, high-waisted jeans and anything paisley, and shirts with restaurant logos."

I glance at his 'Where's the Beef?' shirt and he mocks being insulted.

"This is a great shirt," he protests.

I smile."Oh, Silas, you remember my mom," I say. He nods.

"Nice to see you, Dr. Freedman."

"Nice to see you, too, Silas," Mom smiles.

"So are you coming on Saturday? To Axel's?" he asks, hopeful but trying to come across as casual.

"Oh, I'm not..." I begin.

"You should," he says, seeing my hesitation. "Everyone misses you."

"Maybe," I say, shrugging."Hope so," he smiles. "I've gotta get back to work." He gestures towards the skate shop he came out of.

"Text me back," he walks backwards. I nod half-heartedly and he smiles and turns and goes back to the store. He looks back once more to smile at me as we turn to keep walking.

"That boy is in love with you," Mom smiles. I roll my eyes and shake my head.

"We're just friends."

"Baby, you can say that line until you're blue in the face, but anyone who sees the way he looks at you will call you a liar."

I laugh.

"He's come to the house about five times, y'know," she adds.

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm," she nods as we walk towards the parking lot. "Always looked so heartbroken when I turned him away."

We reach the car and load our bags into the back. I get into the back seat.

"If you want to go to Axel's, you can go, sugar. Even just for a little while."

I don't say anything."Just think about it, baby," she says.

"Okay."

When we get home Dad is there. He's in the living room reading a book on the couch with Nigel sprawled out beside him, but he wakes up abruptly when Mom and I walk in.

"Hey," Dad smiles. "You leave anything for the rest of LA?"

Typical guy comment. I make a face at him and look where Jamie's luggage had been.

"Oh, I, uh...put everything in your room. Thought you'd want it there," he says.

I nod and take a deep breath. "Yeah...thanks, Dad."

I head upstairs to dump the shopping bags and begin the difficult task of going through Jamie's things.

Nigel follows me and sniffs carefully at the luggage.

"Okay, buddy," I kneel in front of a big suitcase and scratch Nigel's ears. "Can't put this one off, can we?"

I unzip the suitcase and find clothes. I stare at them as a familiar scent fills the air around me. Lacoste perfume. She'd worn it, her signature scent, since ninth grade.I spend the next few hours going through the suitcases. It's mostly clothes, but also some other things, like a diary and a box filled with random keepsakes and a bunch of purses, one of which is filled with necklaces, rings and bracelets. I also find a ring box. Inside is a white gold ring with an amethyst flanked by two smaller diamonds. Jamie's sweet sixteen ring from George. She was wearing it that night, I remember.

I hear a soft knock and look up from the pile I'm in and see Mom and Dad.

"Her sweet-sixteen ring," I say, holding the come in and sit amidst the stuff with me.

"I think she'd love if you wore it," Dad says, realizing I feel weird about it.

"I guess," I say, but I sit and stare at it until Dad takes it and gently slips it onto my right hand. A perfect fit. And it doesn't feel weird at all. It feels good. They sit with me as I go through the rest of the stuff until I have two piles.

"You're sure you want to donate this one?" Mom points to the small one.

I nod. "It's either too small or hideous," I manage a smile, holding up a paisley blouse Jamie bought simply to try and prove that paisley could be fashionable. She failed. I thought I'd find it impossible to give away her things, but Jamie and I both used to frequently donate clothing, whether it was for school fundraisers or just after closet-cleaning when we'd realize we had so many things we didn't wear anymore. Giving these things to someone who really needs them is exactly what she would want.

Still, when Dad drives me down to the donation centre, I hesitate for a minute, holding the bag of clothes. Dad gives me a sympathetic look and after another minute I hand the bag over to one of the volunteers. Dad kisses my forehead and steers me back towards the car.

"So, it's still early. What do you say to some paintball?" he smiles.

"What about our stuff?" I ask, smiling at his hopeful face. He clicks the car remote and the hatchback opens to reveal our gear.

"Well played, Father," I nod appraisingly, and he pushes me towards the car excitedly.

Whenever Dad and I go paintballing, he feels the need to "pump himself up" by listening to rap on the way there. For Father's Day last year I made him a two-disc compilation of all of our favorite rap songs. It's not even necessarily that I like a particular song, it's just funny to watch him attempt to rap. I've never seen him more excited over a gift than he was by those CDs. Mom thinks some of the lyrics are ridiculous and, "a bit inappropriate, Cooper. What do you or Kati even know about 'life on da streets'?"

To which Dad explained that it was about showing respect to "his homies", and Mom rolled her eyes and laughed. So Dad raps along with DMX as we drive to our favorite paintball course. We decide to join a team about to start a game, and are paired with four guys who look to be in their early twenties. One of them has a Berkeley sweater on. They appraise me as I load my gun.

"You gonna need someone to cover you, sweetheart?" one of them asks, looking me over.

I smirk."You're leaving this game before I am. Sweetheart."

"She's sixteen, pal," Dad says protectively, and I drag him away as one guy says, "Sixteen? Holy shit. I'm going back to high school."

"Does that happen all the time?" Dad asks, and when I laugh and shake my head in amusement he looks as though he just found a new thing to fight for.

"Oh, I am going to slaughter those perverts," he growls, adjusting his mask. I laugh as we find places on the field.

"Dad, they're on our team," I remind him, and a look of disappointment fills his face. "Next time," I say, my hand on his shoulder.

The horn blasts to start the ten minutes two of the college guys are hit, leaving four of us and five of the other team. I dive behind a blow-up pillar and hear shots hit it as a roll across the ground.

"Did you see the guy behind the triangle?" I hear, and turn around to see Dad, hiding nearby.

"Yeah, he's mine. I'm closer, and you'll never get him with his left side hidden. Go to the barrier over there and you'll be in perfect line for that guy in the blue," I say, eyeing the guy I'm about to kill. Another ten minutes pass and only Dad and I are left on our team, something I know he'd love to rub in the college guys' faces. The other team also has two people left. Dad and I strategize and decide on a plan, and as he moves out to act on it, he fires at the exact same time as his kill, eliminating both of them.

It's down to me and the other guy. I see him try to make it look like he goes left, but then he sneaks back and goes right. I smile and sneak after him. As I get closer I hear him talking to himself, and I recognize the voice.

"Alright, assface, where are you..." he says to himself.

Smiling, I stand up behind him.

"Is that any way to speak to one of your dearest friends?" I ask, and as he spins around I pull the trigger, nailing him right in the breastbone.

"Aw, shit," he groans, clutching his chest. I take off my mask as the horn blares to signify the end of the game, and my team cheers, running over.

"Kati," Axel cries, looking up and still clutching his chest. "Damn! How do you manage to kick my ass every time?" He takes off his mask and wipes his arm across his forehead as Dad reaches me and spins me around in a hug.

"You've got sick skills, girl," the cocky college guy says. He holds out his fist and says, "Respect," so I bump it back and then Dad and I do a victory dance.

"How've you been?" Axel asks, nudging me. He looks really happy to see me, and I feel guilty for having isolated myself from him.

"I'm okay," I nod.

"I miss you, bra. I miss partying with you!"

Dad comes back with three bottles of water.

"Me too," I say to Axel as Dad hands out the water.

"How's it goin', Doc?" Axel asks, grasping Dad's handshake and pulling him into a one-armed "bro-hug". Axel treats my Dad like one of his buddies, and it's pretty hilarious.

"Can't complain," Dad replies. "How's your summer?"

"Pretty good, man. I started my own business," he says nonchalantly.

"Seriously?" Dad asks.

"Aw, yeah. I'm doing contract work, fixing people's computers and electronics, and making websites."

Axel is a bit of a space cadet sometimes, and he's been known to smoke a bit too much pot on occasion, but the guy is a total genius. He can build computers, make apps for phones and basically do whatever he wants with a computer. He's a great person, gets straight-As and doesn't get into trouble at school, so his parents let him do whatever he wants. Hence his keggers.

"That's awesome, buddy," Dad says. "Very entrepreneurial."

"Oh, totes, bro," Axel nods. "Making some sick coin, too. Thinking of going to Europe after graduation."

We chat for a few more minutes before realizing we need to head home for dinner.

"Hey, are you going to come on Saturday?" Axel asks. I hesitate and he shakes his head.

"Don't answer yet. Just...think about it, okay?" I nod and he smiles and hugs me before heading to his car, waving at Dad as he goes.

When we walk in the door, Mom looks up from the couch where she's surrounded by paperwork.

"Wow," she says, taking in our paint-spattered faces, hair and clothes. "I was wondering where you two got to."

She grins as Dad recounts our victory.

"And, of course, I got hit right when I hit the other guy, and Kati snuck in and pelted their only survivor. And it was Axel," he finishes, peeling off his shirt.

"Don't you get paint on my carpet!" Mom says. "Don't forget we have that charity dinner for DCFS at 7:00," she says, getting off the couch and heading to the kitchen.

"I remembered," I say, yanking a hair tie from my messy hair.

"I set your dress out. The one from the dry cleaners."

Her hair is already done, I realize, and I have two hours until we have to leave.

"Thanks."

"You best go wash that rainbow out of your hair. You look like you wrestled a leprechaun."

Dad laughs as I giggle and examine my arms.

"Careful you don't get paint on the wall, either," Mom gestures to the lavender wall to my left, and as she gets closer to me I jokingly lunge forward and pretend like I'm going to wrap my paint-covered arms around her. She jumps back and shrieks my name. I laugh and then turn and go upstairs to shower.

"First time I've really seen my baby in months," I hear Mom say to Dad.

"I know," Dad agrees. "You should have seen her play."


	12. Chapter 12

I take a long shower and then wander to the bed and see my favorite purple dress laid out. I sit at the vanity and begin deciding on makeup when Mom knocks on my door.

"Come in," I say. Mom comes in with a package."What's that?"

"Oh, just somethin' I ordered for you awhile back," she smiles and walks over to me, wiping my towel across the back of my neck. "I swear to god, child, you get more paint on you than on the other team."

She hands me the box and I open it to find a pair of wedge Mary Janes that I wanted awhile ago.

"Mom," I say happily, pulling them out. "How did you know?"

"You think I don't know exactly what you like?" she grins, taking my dress out of the bag it's in and laying it out again on the bed. I stand up and hug her, a shoe still in my hand.

"Thanks, Mom," I say, and she squeezes me and smiles when I pull back.

"You're welcome, baby," she says, and starts to head suddenly gets a sharp pain and Mom sees me quickly reach up and touch my temple. A little lightning storm headache.

"Kati?" she asks, taking a step towards me.

"I'm fine," I say. "Just a headache. Probably from my mask," I add. She eyes me, frowning, and I wave her off. "Really, Mom. I'm fine."

I turn back to my makeup and sit down. She's suspicious, but leaves me to get ready.

An hour and a half later I'm ready, and head downstairs. Dad is putting in his cufflinks in the kitchen.

"Wow," he grins. "You look amazing, honey."

I smile and finish putting my earrings in as Mom comes downstairs.

"I have the most beautiful girls," Dad smiles, kissing Mom.

"We do make beautiful babies," Mom smiles and fixes a stray curl from my hair.

"We ready?" Dad asks, checking his pockets to make sure he has everything.

"Thunder cats are go," I say, slipping my phone into my bag.

The charity event for DCFS is hosted by St. Ambrose every year. When we pull up to the valet, we see Addison and Sam ahead of us. We climb out of the car and greet them, and once inside we see Violet and Pete. All of us are seated together at the same table. There's a silent auction to raise money, a band playing, and an open bar along with waiters walking around. We find our table, where Amelia is already seated, and sit down.

"Hey," Amelia says as we reach the table. "You guys look great!"

"So do you," I reply.

Sheldon arrives and sits down just as the waiter arrives to take drink orders.

"And for you, miss?" he asks after taking everyone's orders.

"I'll take a Belvedere martini. Dirty," I say. The waiter hesitates and Mom smiles and leans forward.

"She's kidding," she says. "She'll have tonic."

"With lime, please," I add.

"How do you even know what Belvedere is?" Addison asks.

"When our gym teacher was fired for being a pedophile, his office was emptied out and there were 17 empty bottles of Belvedere in his filing cabinet. And it's 2011. No one drinks beer anymore. Three senior girls last year got arrested for selling Ketel One to ninth graders," I reply, and sip water.

Everyone looks floored except for my parents who, of course, already know.

"High school has changed," Dad adds.

"Whatever happened to football games and sleepovers?" Violet asks, disturbed.

"Cocaine and roofies," I reply quietly, and Mom gives me a look. "I'm going to find the bathroom," I decide and get up.

"I am never sending Lucas to public school," Violet says as I leave.

"At least Kati seems more like herself again," Pete adds. "Gotta love that dry, spot-on wit."

"She is her mother's daughter," Dad says.

I find the bathroom where several girls my age are hovering over a handbag and each holding a tampon, and a woman who is possibly a dude and more plastic than human adjusting her huge fake boobs.

I hurry up and leave, not interested in being privy to the vodka tampons that are about to the table, drinks have arrived and almost all of the other tables are filled. I sit down as one of Dad's patient's parents finish up a greeting.

"Tell Kloe to come say hello later," Dad smiles politely.

"Of course. She just went to the restroom with her friends," the mother smiles, and she and her husband leave.

"Where are the restrooms, Kati?" Violet asks.

I point my thumb behind me. "Left of the fountain. Look for Rupaul and the Vodka Tampon Trio," I reply.

I must be more myself because my filter is off and honest sarcasm is full-throttle.

"Excuse me?" Addison asks, her wine glass halfway to her mouth. I pause with my tonic and lime and see Mom holding her martini mid-air as well.

"Rupaul?" Dad looks around.

"Vodka what?" Mom demands.

"Um," I start, realizing I've just blown the cover of my peers. Granted, we aren't friends, or even acquaintances, but still. "Yeah. Rupaul," I say, using the woman-man's passing by our table as an out. Everyone glances over but Mom quickly brings her solid gaze back to me.

"Katelyn Freedman," she says.

I close my eyes and sigh.

"It's when girls marinate tampons in vodka and..." I wave a hand. "Y'know."

Everyone stares at me.

"What? Why?" Dad frowns. I look at him.

"So they get wasted. In record time," I reply.

"That's disgusting," Addison says. "Not to mention stupid."

"Yeah, well. They used to snort it," Mom adds, unimpressed. "There was a huge PTA meeting last year about all of the wildly good ideas that children are having these days."

"Whatever happened to just...drinking?" Pete asks.

"Breath. No one wants to smell like booze," I reply.

My parents and their friends have an uncanny ability to make me feel like I'm growing up in some sort of freak show. I guess, compared to them, I am.

"Unbelievable," Addison shakes her head. Violet, who froze when the explanation began, shakes her head in disbelief, and then keeps walking towards the bathroom.

"Do other parents know?" Mom demands. "About this tampon business?"

I shrug. "Probably. I'm not totally sure...not really my crowd."

Sure I've seen these kinds of antics happen, at parties and even at school, but Jamie and I never partook and our group of friends was "old-fashioned", in the sense that we used our mouths to ingest alcohol.

"I am never letting you out of the house again," Dad says.

"Whatever, Dad, the only way booze has ever entered my system was through my esophagus," I shoots me a look and I hold up my hands. "Hey, I have never hid the fact that I have had beer. At least I've never stumbled home in a drunken stupor. Or been brought home by the cops."

"Suddenly I have absolutely no envy about the fact that I seem to be barren," Addison sighs, sipping her wine.

"Dark times," I nod.

I can tell this is going to merit a conversation later from the way Mom is looking at me, but suddenly a loud noise makes us all look over and see a teenage girl fall to the ground, taking a waiter's tray of empty glasses with her. She laughs hysterically as her friends laughs and tries to help her up.

"Oh, good," I say, sipping my drink. "Must be third-period math class."

Dad gets up, flanked by Addison and Pete, who go to the scene. The girls' parents arrive, but the third girl just laughs from the sidelines. She must have come with one of the others.

"Kloe," one of the dads admonishes. "Are you drunk?"

Kloe and her friend on the floor just laugh as both mothers look embarrassed.

"Let me smell your breath!" the dad demands.

"Oh, I'm sure that won't give them away, will it girls?" Addison says, trying to help stand the girls up. Violet emerges from the bathroom and looks at the commotion in confusion, followed by disappointment. She comes to the table to sit down as Dad and Addison fill the parents in on what the girls have done.

"I guess that was the loud noise I heard," Violet says, sitting down as Dad, Addison and Pete return.

"Yep," I say, reading a text from Axel. "Looks like the end of the night for Boozy Susie and her pickled minions."

Mom stifles a chuckle and tries to mask it with a look.

"That is seriously disturbing. And stupid," Addison says.

They continue to talk about the girls so I reply to Axel's message and observe the other guests in the room for awhile.

My head is getting sharp pains again, making me wince. Thankfully no one a little while, dinner is served. My appetite is gone but I move the food around the plate to make it look like I've eaten more than I have.

"You not hungry, honey?" Dad asks.

"Not overly," I reply, but smile to quell him.

"You look pale," Mom says, but I say that I'm just tired as she presses her palm to my forehead. She eyes me carefully.

After dinner there are a few speeches, some highlighted items for the silent auction, a presentation of a donation to DCFS, and then the dance begins.

I hope Mom and Dad want to leave soon. I'm feeling weird. But Dad says we have to dance, so I let myself be dragged onto the dance floor.

Thankfully it's a slow song, so Dad can't try to moonwalk and I can lean my weight against him. He talks about paintballing and the party at Axel's, before giving me a weird look. I feel like my ears are ringing.

"Honey, are you okay?" he asks, his grip on my back and hand tightening.

"I'm fine," I say, but my head gets a shooting pain and I feel a weird sensation of warmth in my left ear. I reach up and touch it, and my hand comes away with blood on my fingers.

The sound starts to die down, like it's getting farther away, and I feel myself falling as Dad's face fades, his mouth open like he's yelling.


	13. Chapter 13

*Omniscient*

Cooper grabs Kati as she passes out, yelling for Amelia as Charlotte bolts from her chair and beats everyone to the spot on the floor where Kati is laid down. There is blood coming from her left ear and she's pale.

Amelia checks her as Charlotte grasps Kati's hand, demanding people to back up so she can take vitals. Cooper quickly calls an ambulance.

"She just fell. She went completely pale and went to touch her ear, and fell," he explains to Amelia, panicking even as he tries to stay calm.

"It's a brain bleed. Probably since the accident. Has she been sick? Vomiting? Headaches?" Amelia asks as EMTs arrive.

"I think she's been having headaches. I knew she looked in pain, but she said she was fine. Dammit," Charlotte curses, angry and scared.

She follows the EMTs as they wheel Kati's gurney outside, and climbs into the ambulance with them, ordering them what to do. Cooper promises to meet them at the hospital, as with Amelia in the ambulance too, there's no more room.

At the hospital, Amelia rushes Kati straight into an MRI.

"Charlotte, you can't be in here. You know that," Amelia says gently.

"That's my child," Charlotte starts to protest, but Cooper arrives and pulls her into his arms.

"She's in good hands. We'll be right here for her when she gets out," he soothes. Charlotte fights him at first, but then breaks away from him and takes off towards her office, rather than have everyone watch her lose it.

Amelia discovers that she was right; Kati's brain is bleeding. She rushes her into surgery. Charlotte refuses to listen to Amelia and roots herself in the scrub room, watching through the window as Kati's head is cut open.

As soon as she can, Amelia comes into the scrub room to update them.

"I got it," she says quietly before either of them can ask. "It's stopped. Did she hit her head recently? The bleed has been there since the accident, but something must have exacerbated it to make it hemorrhage. It's actually good that we found it now."

"Paintball," Cooper says, looking distraught.

"What?" Amelia asks as Charlotte mutters under her breath and rubs her forehead.

"She went paintballing. Today," she replies.

"Did she fall?"

"No, but she's aggressive. Takes dives and just plays rough," Cooper explains.

"You guys," Amelia says firmly. "We caught this. It's no one's fault that it happened. And it's fine. _She _is fine. She should be awake soon."

Cooper grabs Charlotte and holds her as relief and fear bubble inside both of them.

Kati's head is bandaged and she is taken to recovery. On their way there, Cooper and Charlotte pass the waiting room. Addison, Sam, Violet and Pete stand quickly.

"She's okay," Cooper explains. "Amelia found the bleed, clipped it. She's okay."

The group sighs and hugs the two of a them. In hurry to get to Kate, Charlotte leaves the group and find the right room. Cooper isn't far behind, after saying goodbye to everyone.

Kate lies in a hospital bed, the left side of her head bandaged again. Charlotte struggles to maintain her unbreakable composure as she reaches her daughter and gently touches her face.

"Oh, baby girl," she whispers.

There's dried blood still on her ear and neck, so Charlotte grab a cotton swab and gently cleans the blood away.


	14. Chapter 14

I feel something gently brush against my ear and neck. I feel an ache in my skull, but I'm confused as to why it's aching. I struggle to open my eyes. Slowly, light enters my eyes and I see a man and woman standing there. The woman has teary eyes as she looks at me.

"Hey, baby girl," she smiles through her tears.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" the man asks.

I don't answer. I can't. I just stare at them, frowning in confusion. Another woman appears and smiles when she sees me.

"Hey, beautiful."

I swallow, starting to feel nervous. It must show on my face.

"Kati?" The blonde woman to my right looks at me carefully. "Are you okay?"

I open my mouth, glancing at each of them.

"I don't...Who are you?" I finally ask. Because I have never seen any of these people before, and I have no idea who Kati is.

"My child has no idea who I am! Do not tell me to calm down," the blonde woman yells from the hallway where the man, her husband, is trying to console her. The dark-haired doctor is flashing a light in my eyes and asking me questions.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Um, Kati?"

"Do you know that, or are you just going by what you heard?"

"Uh...no. I don't know for sure."

"Can you tell me today's date?"

I think. "I'm not..."

"The year?"

I shake my head, my brow furrowed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she smiles. "I'm Dr. Shepherd. You call me Amelia."

"Are we...I know you?"

"Yes," she explains. "I've been friends with your parents for years. Since before you were born, actually."

"My parents?"

"Cooper and Charlotte," she gestures to the couple.

"She looks angry," I say, and Amelia laughs.

"Yeah, well, your mama's a force to be reckoned with."

"Is she mad at me?" I ask nervously, hoping the blazing look in the woman's eyes doesn't end up glaring at me. This woman is intimidating, but moments ago she was warm and gentle towards me.

"Oh, god no, honey," Amelia shakes her head. "Your mother is a Mama Bear. She's just worried. Her fear tends to come out as anger."

I nod, looking over as the woman looks back at me with a heartbroken look on her face. Amelia asks me a few more questions that I can't answer, checks my reflexes and then smiles before going into the hallway to speak to the couple. I can hear most of the conversation.

"How did this happen?" The woman who is my mother demands.

"I'm sure it's temporary. Her brain swelled, you know the drill. In a few days it'll go down and she should be back to normal," Amelia explains.

I feel guilty and the entire situation is making me nervous. These people know me and were expecting me to wake up as myself...whoever that is.

I try not to listen as they talk for a few more minutes, but the woman, Charlotte, is loud and angry. A few minutes later, she leaves, followed by Amelia, and the man comes back into my hospital room.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks. "Does your head hurt?"

I shrug. "A bit," I lie.

"Well, you're still stubborn, and tough, like your mother. That hasn't changed," he smiles kindly and pulls a syringe and small bottle from a drawer.

"Are you a doctor, too?" I ask.

"Yes. A pediatrician," he replies. "And your mom-Charlotte-is a urologist. And chief of staff for this hospital."

I look away, trying to trigger a memory.

"And she's not mad at you," he looks at me meaningfully. "So don't worry."

He tells me the syringe has morphine and will help with my pain. I don't tell him that I already know this, because I'm not sure why I know. It seems to me like common knowledge. Some more people come by and they all stand outside and talk, looking worried. I hear the group discuss Kate-me-and I feel so exhausted by everything, and drunk off the painkiller, that I fall asleep.

*Omniscient*

When Charlotte and Amelia return, they find Kate asleep and Cooper buried in a neurology book.

"Hey," he says, getting up. He hugs Charlotte. "She's been asleep for a couple hours."

"No change?" Amelia asks, looking at the chart and checking Kate again.

"No," Cooper replies, disheartened.

"How can my own child have no idea who I am?" Charlotte says quietly, refusing to cry.

"Let's let her sleep," Amelia says, her hand on Charlotte's back. "There's still some swelling in her brain, so let's just let her rest a bit."

Charlotte resists but Cooper wraps an arm around her and leads her towards the doorway.

"I can't wait her go through losing Jamie all over again," she says quietly, her eyes swimming.

"I know," Cooper comforts her.

"I need her back," Charlotte whispers, a sob threatening to escape. But she shoves it back into hiding and repeats, "I need her back."

When I wake up, Charlotte is in the room with me. She's sitting with a book in her lap, but I don't think she's actually reading it. She keeps fidgeting and rocking one leg; she can't sit still. She glances up at me and does a double-take, seeing that I'm awake. She gets up and comes over to me, starting to reach for my hand, but stopping herself.  
>"Hey," she says, looking unsure. "You feelin' alright?"<br>I nod.  
>"Your head?" she gestures at her own head. "How's it feelin'?"<br>"It's okay...just a bit of a headache."  
>Wordlessly she fills a syringe with a clear liquid and injects it into my IV. She seems to be kind of put off by this, quickly tossing the empty syringe in the trash once it's empty.<br>"Look, I'm...sorry," I say quietly.  
>"Sorry?"<br>"Yeah, I mean...I know you know me, and everyone else does, too, so...it must be really hard...I guess," I mumble, unsure of how to say what I mean.  
>"Sugar, you don't have to apologize to me," she replies, avoiding my eyes as she arranges things on a medical tray.<br>"How...how old am I?"  
>She looks at me and I can tell she wishes she wasn't here with me right now. That this is incredibly difficult for her, because obviously she loves her daughter-me-very much, and this situation is making her...uncomfortable. Or angry.<br>"Sixteen," she replies after a minute. "You'll be 17 in February."  
>I nod slowly, thinking. "Do you mind if I...," I gesture towards my face. "See. Myself."<br>She reaches into the drawer of the table besides me and produces a hand mirror. She holds it up. I may not remember anything right now, but I do know that looking into a mirror and seeing a stranger is one of the oddest experiences I can think of. And I can't even remember the experiences this stranger has had.

The green eyes and dark hair are completely unfamiliar to me. I can see that I do resemble Charlotte. We have to same big eyes, although hers have more blue. Our faces are similar, but I must get the dark hair and eyebrows from Cooper. I feel so guilty and confused, looking at this girl and feeling completely out of place in her body. She has all of these people who love her, and I'm sitting here staring at all of them like a deer in headlights. What do I say? What do I do? I'm not lonely-not really. But I feel this yearning for someone, and I don't know who it is.

"There's another scar?" I ask, noticing a thin white scar on my forehead, near the new fresh wound that is bandaged up.  
>"Yeah, you, um...there was a car accident. Before the summer," Charlotte replies. Her eyes seem to have a permanent gloss on them, as though she wants to cry, but is refusing to.<br>"Was it bad?" I ask, frowning in thought.  
>Charlotte rubs her lips together. "Um...yeah. It was bad. Your best friend, Jamie...she died."<br>I think I feel a sense of familiarity, but it's not strong enough to make me hold onto anything. I stare at my hands, unsure of what to say. Luckily Cooper arrives and saves me from having to reply.  
>"Hey," he smiles. He kisses Charlotte and I realize he's brought a dog in with him. It's a bulldog, I think.<br>"This guy, really wanted to see you," Cooper grins, looking down at the dog.  
>"He's cute," I give a slight smile, looking down as the dog happily looks up at me.<br>"His name's Nigel," Charlotte says. "The two of you have been inseparable since you were 12."  
>Cooper lifts the dog up, but upon closer inspection of me, he gives me a weird look and doesn't come any closer.<br>"Nigel, it's Kati," Cooper says, patting the blanket so the dog will come forward. But Nigel refuses to move, looking at me.  
>"Smart dog," I mumble. Cooper lifts the dog off the bed.<br>"I thought maybe..." he begins, but I shake my head.  
>"It's okay, I'm actually pretty tired. Maybe I should sleep."<br>Truth is, I feel terrible. I feel guilty and kind of sad.  
>Reluctantly, they leave after kissing my cheek. Charlotte squeezes my hand for a second, looking at me with the wounded look in her eyes that has never left.<br>When they leave, I roll over and cry, but for the life of me I don't know why.


	15. Chapter 15

When I wake up I can't remember why I'm in the hospital. Again. Did I dream the accident? The funeral? Did we not go to the charity fundraiser? My eyes feel heavy with drugs, and I turn my head to try and see through the slits in my eyelids. I can barely make out Mom out by the nurse's station. The nurse behind the desk sees me awake and gestures with her eyes for Mom to look. She turns around and comes over quickly, but slows down, not coming right to me.

"Hey," she says. "How's...how's your head?" She looks at me weirdly.

"A little sore," I reply, eyeing her. "Did I hit it?"

"Kind of. When you went paintballing you exacerbated a bleed that had been there since...for awhile." She's being awkward.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask, frowning.

"Do you, um...who I am?"I look at her, wondering what kind of question that is.

"Why, do you have a secret identity I never knew about?"

"No, Kate. Seriously," she says. She never calls me Kate. Just Kati, or if I'm toeing a certain line I get 'Katelyn'. "Who am I?" she repeats.

I stare at her, my head throbbing slightly.

"My mother?" I reply, half-questioning.

This reply seems to remove all fear and nervousness from her face. She comes and hugs me tightly, kissing my head.

"Oh, thank God," she sighs.

"What's going on?" I ask, as Amelia and Dad rush down the hall and into the room.

"She's awake? She's normal?" Dad demands.

"Well that's mildly offensive," I reply, making a face at him. "You make me sound so monochrome."

Mom looks at Dad happily, tears in her eyes.

"Definitely Kati," Amelia laughs.

"You guys are freaking me out. Someone explain?" I ask, as Dad fights tears through his laughter and Mom keeps a death grip on my hand.

"You had a bleed in your brain," Amelia explains. "You must have knocked your head around at some point, maybe paintballing, and it ruptured and made it worse. You were having headaches?"

I nod after glancing at Mom.

"Sugar, you need to say something when that happens," she says firmly.

"Things were finally feeling almost good again," I say. "I didn't want to jumble it all."

"Baby, you wouldn't jumbled anything. But you know how serious head injuries are. You can't go hidin' this kind of thing."

"I'm sorry," I reply. "But why are you guys being so weird?"

"You had traumatic amnesia," Amelia replies, and I make a face in confusion. "From the bleed. It swelled and-well. The brain does amazing things." She shrugs. I stare at each of them, feeling loopy from the drugs Amelia administered while explaining.

"Shut the ffffront door," I breathe, catching myself when Mom's eyebrow goes up. "I didn't know who you were? Or even who I was?"

"Nope," Dad replies. "Nothing. It was pretty intense."

"It was right terrifying, it what it was," Mom interjects. "A stranger to my own chlid!"

I see this has obviously put serious stress on her.

"Mom," I say, as she holds my hand and maintains the shell-shocked look. "I'm sorry. I'm okay."

"Wasn't anyone's fault, baby," she replies. "You're here now."

"Your vitals are strong, Kati. I'm going to keep you for observation. You still need pain meds and a lot of rest," she grins. "I'm glad you're okay. Had us pretty worried. Made the bitch come outta your mother."

She grins at her joke as Mom gives her a look. Amelia laughs and leaves.

"I hate staying here," I say after a few moments.

"I know, honey. But we can't take any chances," Dad looks exhausted.

"You guys should sleep," I say, and then drunkenly add in my flawless Southern accent. "Ya'll look like day-old dishwater."

They chuckle and Mom pretends to look insulted.

"You're okay? No pain?" Dad asks.

"I'm goooood," I drawl, in a haze of morphine.

Dad kisses my forehead and says he's going to find an on-call room to catch a nap in, since he's been awake for about 24 hours.

"You wake me up if you need to," Mom orders. I nod. "You hear me?" she raises her eyebrows.

"I hear you, Mom," I reply, kisses my forehead. "I love you."

"Love you, too," I mumble sleepily.

She climbs onto the other bed in the room and sighs. Within moments we're both asleep.

The boredom of being stuck in the hospital is eased by visitors. Addison, Sam, Violet, Pete and Axel all stop by. Addison brings magazines, Violet brings candy, and Axel brings laughter, which I appreciate so much. I read two books in three days and go through Addison's magazines within a couple hours. I'm kept for observation for two days until Amelia agrees to let me leave.

Mom grabs a whole bunch of supplies from the room and fills her bag.

"Are you _stealing _medical supplies, Mother?" I feign shock.

"What? It's _my _hospital," she replies indignantly. I laugh and finish getting my stuff together, so happy to be ditching the hospital gown.

A nurse rushes in. "Dr. Freedman, they need you in emerg."

"I'm taking my daughter home, Chelsea," Mom replies.

"Dr. Freedman, it's-" she glances at me, and gives me a meaningful look to Mom.

Mom stops packing and looks up at her. She turns to me. "You wait here until I get back," she says firmly, and I nod.

She follows Chelsea and after a moment, curiosity gets the best of me and I sneak after them. I follow them as Chelsea informs Mom that the patient is a 19-year-old female, found off-campus near UCLA. I look up for a clock and realize it's late, after 10:30, and dark out. I think to myself that it makes more sense to have just found someone, since it's dark out. But my sleep is messed up so I was thinking it was the middle of the day.

I make sure no one sees me following Mom and Chelsea. They reach emergency where Chelsea points to a curtain, and Mom goes in. As I get closer I hear crying and my mother softly introducing herself. There are cops a few metres away. I listen as Mom tries to comfort the girl and talks to her, explaining that she needs to do an exam, and make sure there's no internal bleeding. My stomach churns as I begin to suspect why Mom was needed for this girl. After she told me, the night of the accident before I left, what happened to her that night so many years ago, she explained that that's why she is always called when a rape victim comes into the hospital. She wants to be the one notified, so she can try to help whatever poor girl is lying on a hospital bed, wishing she could die.

After a moment I peek through the curtain and my heart stutters.

The girl looks younger than 19; she looks my age. Her dark hair is disheveled and looks like there's some blood in it. Her face is bloody and bruised, her nose is clearly broken, her eyes blackened and her lip split. Her right hand looks swollen and she has cuts and bruises all over her legs. I swallow, and it's hard to breathe. The girl cries softly, unable to stop, trying to hold back her sobs.

"Page Addison Montgomery," Mom orders, and looks up expecting Chelsea but sees me instead, standing by the corner of the curtain, my mouth agape as a I stare. "Kati, go back to the room," she demands.

But I can't take my eyes off of the girl. I can't stop picturing my own mother, beaten and bruised and looking so broken, like she aches right down to her soul.

Mom hooks her stethoscope around her neck and comes quickly to where I'm standing, closing the curtains and pushing me back gently.

"Kati," she says firmly, and dazed, I look up at her wide-eyed. "What are you doing here? I asked you to wait for me in the room."

She's not angry but her face is hardened.

"I didn't...I just..." I try to speak, but my eyes fill with tears.

"Baby, breathe," she whispers, gripping my arms. Dad appears, on his way to my hospital room, carrying two coffees. He sees us and quickly sets the coffees on the nurse's station and comes over to us.

"What happened?" he asks, touching my head.

"She saw my patient," Mom replies pointedly, and Dad looks behind her shoulder and glimpses the girl through the space in the curtains. "She followed me," Mom explains.

Dad wraps his arms around me and steers me away as Addison arrives and looks questioningly at Mom, who squeezes my arm and goes to talk to her.

"Just breathe, honey," Dad says softly, leading us towards the hospital room. When we get inside Dad lifts me onto the bed like I'm seven.

"Try to relax, baby," he says. I look up at him.

"That girl...she..."

"I know," Dad says, his thumb rubbing my cheek as he cups my head.

"That's how...that's what happened to Mom."

He closes his eyes and sighs."Yes, honey," he answers. "But that was a very long time ago. She went to therapy and she talked about it, and the guy went to prison, and she's okay now. She uses that...experience, to help other girls."

I nod, but the girl's face is stuck in my mind, and it keeps switching to Mom's sits with me, rubbing my back until Mom comes around the corner and into the room.

"You okay, darlin'?" she asks softly, taking Dad's place as he gets up. I nod, even though I still feel completely disturbed.

"I wish I hadn't seen that...seen her."

"I wish you hadn't, either."

"I can't believe that happened...to you," I whisper.

"It was a long time ago, baby. I'm fine now. And it helps me to help other women."

I nod and inhale deeply, finally calming down.

"Let's go home, huh?" she says.


	16. Chapter 16

If I thought my parents watched me closely after the accident, it was nothing compared to now.

I'm never alone, and if I fall asleep they keep coming over to make sure I'm still breathing. Literally. I woke up from a nap yesterday to find Mom inches away from my face, with her hand in front of my mouth to make sure she could feel me breathing. They constantly check my pupil response and temperature and instead of stitches this time, I have staples in my head.

The bandages are changed religiously and Mom is less stringent with the painkillers, but prefers to have Dad administer them. We stock up on documentaries and movies, and Dad goes to Barnes & Noble and basically cleans out the history section for me.

The doorbell rings a few days after I get home. It's Axel, and Mom lets him in to see me.

"Hey," I say, sitting up when he enters the living room.

"Sup, bra? Sick slice," he nods at my head, the wound exposed as Mom was in the middle of changing the bandages.

"Yeah, should make me a real shoo-in with the Crips," I reply. "What are you doing here? Isn't your fiesta today?"

"Nah," he shrugs. "Postponed it until you can keep your ass outta the hospital for longer than a week."

"Nice," I reply, nodding, and he grins as I toss a pillow at him. "Your biggest roadblock is actually the Warden," I say quietly, but Mom is on her way back into the room with bandages.

"I heard that," she says drily. "And she's right." She looks at Axel pointedly. "Kati can't be out gallivantin' for several weeks."

"I'm going to spend senior year riiight here," I rub the couch cushion.

"I figured it would be awhile," Axel nods. "Probs won't set something up until August."

"You can't do that," I roll my eyes. "Don't hold everything off until then."

"Hell, I'm still chillin'," he waves shrugs and leans back into the couch. "Just mean I'm saving those sparks and everything for when you're back in action."

"Must be difficult," I smile, referring to the fireworks.

"Seriously, bra," he shakes his head. "It's gonna be sick when we finally get to."

He looks up as Mom cleans my wound with a half-disgusted, half-fascinated expression.

"That's the gnarliest cut I've ever seen," he shakes his head.

"Yes. I'm so glad to be able to provide it," I reply drily. Mom finishes bandaging and then Axel and I play Black Ops for awhile.

Too soon, I start to feel my head ache.

"I gotta get going," Axel says, seeing that I'm getting tired. "But I'm-a be back for round two." He refers to our game.

"Glutton for punishment," I smirk.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Take it easy, girl. Stop scaring the shit out a brother," he says, holding up his fist.

"Don't be such a baby," I reply, knocking my fist with his. He smiles and leaves.

I fall asleep almost as soon as the door closes behind him.

When I wake up I hear voices in the kitchen that I quickly recognize as Bubbie and Zeyde, Dad's parents. They were born and raised in Poland, so they both have pretty thick accents. They moved to the United States after they got married, and then adopted Dad. His warm upbringing must be why he's such an amazing pediatrician. I sit up slowly, so I don't get a head rush, and stand up to go to the kitchen.

As soon as I turn the corner Bubbie jumps up.

"Yakiri," she cries, rushing over. "How are you, my darling?"

"Hi, Bubbie," I hug her. "I'm fine. When did you get here?"

Zeyde is already up and waiting for Bubbie to stop kissing my face so he can get a hug.

"Just about an hour ago," he replies, finally getting his hug. "We would have come sooner, but you know how Africa is with phones and such."

My grandparents left for a year-long trip around the world about a month before my accident. Their only communication had been through email, and they hadn't been checking their email often, hence them not being here sooner.

"We came home as soon as we could. I am so sorry it takes us so long," Bubbie says sadly.

"It's okay," I say, sitting down as Mom sets tea in front of me.

"We were so worried," Zeyde says, taking my hand. I smile and squeeze it back.

"I'm okay. Really."

"Brain surgery," Bubbie shakes her head.

"Yep," I say. "Hopefully that's as close as I get to a lobotomy."

They try to ask more questions but I keep bringing the conversation back to Africa, and soon they get the hint that I need to talk about something aside from my own crazy situation.

I excuse myself after a little while so I can take a shower, and Bubbie stands up and announces that she'll start preparing dinner.

"Mom, can you come cover my head, please?" I ask, heading for the stairs.

"Of course, darlin'," she follows me.

After Bubbie's gefilte fish, knishes and vegetarian holishkes, we settle around the table to play Trivial Pursuit. Dad and I have been playing it, and Jeopardy, forever. He started using money when I was too old for candy rewards for getting questions right. Many nights, especially over the past few months, have been spent with a stack of $10 bills on the table and one of the two games in front of us.

When Dad brings out a stack of bills, Bubbie looks puzzled.

"What are those for, sweetheart?"

"Incentive," Dad replies.

"You make my grandchild play games for money?" Bubbie looks appalled.

"No, your grandchild stopped being motivated by jelly beans," Dad replies.

"Uh, in all fairness, jelly beans are disgusting. And it was so your idea to use money," I say.

"Only because candy wasn't enticing you anymore," he replies.

"Cooper," Bubbie says, but she doesn't actually look mad.

"My baby girl has a 4.0 and already finished all of her AP math courses. Early," Mom adds. "The child earns her money."

Zeyde chuckles and I smile.

"Gonna be president one day, gorgeous," he says.

"Not if I can help it," I reply drily.

Within 15 minutes Mom and I are winning. It's every man for himself, but we each have two pie pieces to everyone else's one, and I have $50 and Mom has $40.

"This condition refers to a build-up of certain proteins deposited in organs or tissue," Zeyde reads.

We play by our own rules, which means basic, non-pie questions are free-for-fall. Technically, it was Dad's roll, but anyone can answer. A second before Mom can, I blurt out, "Amyloidosis!"

Dad drops his head into his hands and looks up. "My 16-year-old is beating me at medical trivia," he sulks.

I laugh and take the ten he holds up. "Merci, Papa," I feign sadness. "Je suis desolee."

"You are not," he glares. "You are not desolee." He reaches over and steals the Oreo I'm about to eat.

"Saboteur!" I say, staring at open-mouthed.

"For stealing a cookie?" he looks dubious, eating the Oreo.

"I have an oral fixation," I improvise, and Mom busts out a, "Ha!" and shakes her head.

"You do not," she smiles, poking my ribs.

The game lasts another half-hour until Mom gets her final puzzle piece, winning the game.

Tired, Bubbie and Zeyde kiss everyone goodnight and head to the guest room, so Mom and Dad and I settle onto the couch and watch a documentary on thalidomide babies.

"If I'd been born one, would you have reacted a la Sparta and thrown me off a cliff?" I ask, staring at the screen.

"They don't use thalidomide anymore," Mom replies drily.

"But if they did."

"No. I would not toss my own child of a cliff," she answers indignantly.

"Even if I looked like the daughter of Frankenstein and a rhinoceros?" I press on.

Dad chuckles and Mom laughs and then stare at me.

"At least tell me you'd have aborted after the first ultrasound when my one-legged, three-eyed body was revealed," I cock my head to one side.

"What are you talking about?" Dad laughs.

"I just want your word that you wouldn't have brought a child into the world who would have had to spend her whole life in a hospital, unable to comprehend anything."

"...Okay," Mom frowns.

"Good," I nod.

"I think your idea of a bedtime story is turning ugly, Cooper," she says.

"She chose this herself," Dad holds up his hands.

He decides to watch a movie after the documentary, so Mom brings some paperwork to her spot on the couch, and I alternate between reading a Holocaust memoir and watching snippets of The Godfather.

"Carrie Weston was readmitted last night," Mom says.

"I know. I'm going to see her tomorrow," Dad replies, unhappily.

"The little girl with leukemia?" I ask, as Mom absent-mindedly plays with my ponytail while she reads.

"Yeah. She's not doing so well," he replies.

"Did her parents save any cord blood?" I ask.

"I'll find out tomorrow. Hopefully they did. Chemo and radiation don't seem to be enough for her."

After a little while I decide to go to bed. I kiss them goodnight and head upstairs to play a few songs on my guitar before falling asleep, Nigel taking up most of the room beside me.

The next day both Mom and Dad have to go into work for a bit, so while Bubbie busies herself in the kitchen, Zeyde and I do the crossword puzzle in the paper together. Zeyde loves funny movies so afterwards we watch Grumpy Old Men. Dad arrives home first and joins us. Bubbie is making dinner and Mom gets home just as she is ready to set the table.

During dinner Dad talks about Carrie, his patient, and how her parents hadn't saved her cord blood at birth.

"It's a pricey procedure," Mom says. "Lots of parents don't. Or can't."

"Did you guys?" I ask.

"Of course," Mom replies. "I'm not about to potentially let my child deal with, heaven forbid, some kind of fatal disease. Yours is stored in our private bank."

"Gross. So, can't Carrie use someone else's?" I ask, knowing it could work.

"I ran a check today. No matches in the public bank," Dad replies. Mom looks at him.

After a few days I finally get the staples removed, and I can't wait to finally wash my hair.

"This is how I'd smell if I got dreadlocks," I say, examining my hair.

"Please never do that," Mom makes a face. "Ever."

"Maybe it could deter the boys..." Dad considers, but Bubbie clucks her tongue and pinches him gently.

"Nothing will deter from this beautiful girl," she says in her heavily accented English, cupping my face.

"Seriously. Smell my hair, Bubbie," I say, but she waves a hand as if this makes no difference and continues making her tea.

I shower, washing my hair twice, and then go sit and chat with Bubbie and Zeyde until they go to bed. I play guitar for awhile and then go to bed.

Mom takes me to Barnes & Noble, and on the way home she stops at the hospital to pick up some files. We see Dad talking happily to a couple. He sees us and excuses himself, coming over to say hi.

"Something happen with Carrie?" Mom asks, recognizing the couple as Carrie's parents.

"Oh, uh," Dad replies. "She's good. She's doing okay." He looks weird, like he's not telling the truth. He kisses Mom's cheek and says he's in a rush, and takes off. Mom looks suspicious, and I get suspicious of her when, after dropping me off at home, says she needs to run back to the hospital, leaving quickly.

I find Zeyde watching daytime television, looking horrified and fascinated.

"These people, they have no idea who their baby's father is!" He throws up his hands in disbelief.

"Wait until Maury reads the results," I say, sitting beside him.

"Terrible," he shakes his head.

"Fascinating," I counter.

I must have fallen asleep because suddenly I am waking up to a door closing loudly, and the furious clicking of Mom's heels, followed by Dad's voice.

"Charlotte, listen," he starts, but Mom cuts him off.

"No, you listen. You sneak into _my _computer and access private records, and you think that's okay? You are a doctor, and my husband, and today you acted like _neither_! Do you realize that the Jacksons could sue my hospital? Now, I'm glad that little girl is okay, and I know that everybody thinks I'm the big bad witch of St. Ambrose, but you made me be the sheriff with _you _today! And you are supposed to work _with _me. You have completely destroyed my trust!"

Mom is fuming and I look over at Zeyde and see the same look that's on my face: wuh-oh.

"Charlotte, I'm sorry," Dad says, but Mom is walking away, up the stairs to their room.

"What has happened, darling?" Bubbie asks, coming in from the balcony where she was reading.

"I...broke some rules," he answers, shaking his head. "In order to save a little girl's life. I broke into Charlotte's computer and accessed the private blood bank, and tried to get a family's permission to use their cord blood. It was a perfect match! But they said no, so I...I forged the papers. And used the blood." He looks defeated, and Bubbie looks disappointed, and Dad can tell.

"But she's getting better!" He tries to defend himself. "It's been two days and her white count is like...like a different person's!"

"Oh, sweetheart," Bubbie shakes her head. I'm leaning against the back of the couch, watching from the living room with Zeyde.

"And Charlotte is going to kill me," Dad finishes.

"Well, dear, you broke her trust. And that is very hard to deal with, and to earn back. Regardless of your motives or the outcome," Bubbie says. Dad rubs his forehead, looking exhausted.

"Looks like you're sleeping on the couch tonight, huh?" I say. Dad looks at me, defeated.

"Yep," he nods, disappointed.


	17. Chapter 17

Mom is giving Dad the silent treatment. When she gets home from work the next day, he tries again, following her to their bedroom. I hear the conversation from my bedroom where I'm playing a few of my songs for Zeyde.

"I get it," he says. "Relationships-our relationship, our marriage-is a science, not a philosophy. No, wait...it's a philosophy, not a science. And I get it. I get _you_. And I'm sorry."

I shake my head, knowing he is getting nowhere.

"What is it exactly that you get, Cooper?" Mom asks. There's silence. "And that's why you're still sleeping on the couch," Mom says, and leaves the room.

We're having everyone over tonight for dinner, and she has some setting up to do. Dad stands outside their bedroom door and looks over into mine, seeing Zeyde and I. He looks beaten.

"Next time, son," Zeyde nods.

Mom calls me upstairs later on to help her zip her dress.

"What are you gonna wear, darlin'?" she asks as I zip the green dress.

"I dunno," I reply, shrugging. "Leather bodysuit?"

"Not on your life," she replies stonily. Jokes aren't working on her today.

"Purple top with a high-waisted black skirt," I say.

"Purple makes those beautiful eyes of yours look even more green," she says, finally smiling. "You want help with your hair?"

"Yes, please," I reply on my way out the door. I reach my room and choose a royal purple top with a neckline that makes Dad nervous. I pair it with a black pencil skirt and slip on some plain black flats. I sit down to do my makeup. I realize I've barely worn any makeup at all lately. Since the accident. I feel like I look so different with a bit of eyeliner and mascara. Mom comes in as I'm applying lip gloss.

"You ready, sugar?"

"Mmhmm," I mumble, and cap the gloss as she picks up a comb and begins arranging my loose curls.

"Can you hide the scar?" I ask.

"Of course, baby," she smiles. "But don't start actin' like this little thing is a huge gash. You've got nothin' to be embarrassed about."

"Yeah, except I look like someone from Disturbing Behavior."

"That old movie with Katie Holmes? Darlin', you watch your mouth. You look nothin' of the sort," she replies. "No daughter of mine is anything but gorgeous."

I don't say anything as she finishes pulling my hair back, leaving some curls hanging.

"See?" she eyes me in the mirror, giving me a told-you-so look.

"Well-played, Mother," I reply, choosing earrings.

The doorbell rings and we hear Addison, Sam and Amelia arrive. We head downstairs and are greeted warmly as Dad introduces Bubbie and Zeyde to Amelia, whom they've never met.

"Well, look at that," Addison gently touches my forehead. "Barely a scar."

"I seem to hear that a lot lately," I smile, hugging her back.

"So are you still plotting Cooper's death?" Addison asks Mom.

"Not in front of my child," Mom replies, sipping her wine.

"I will not be a pawn in your murder trial," I reply, and leave the small circle to grab a Pellegrino, squeezing a lime into it as Violet and Pete arrive.

"Hey, gorgeous," Pete kisses my forehead.

"Hey," I say as Violet hugs me.

"Smells amazing in here," she comments.

"I know. The caterer got here about half an hour ago, and it's smelled heavenly ever since."

Everyone stands around talking, although Mom avoids standing in the same little group as Dad.

"The feud still on?" Amelia asks.

"Oh, yeah," I reply. "Really, all he needs to do is understand where he messed up, but he really seems to be having a hard time grasping it all."

"Guys are missing that part of their brain," she replies. "I would know. I _am _a brain surgeon. But he'll figure it out."

"Yeah. They never stay in a fight for more than a few days," I say.

"Yeah, but your Mom is scary when she's angry."

I nod, sipping Pellegrino. Everyone mingles for awhile until Amelia asks me to play a song.

"What? No. Come on," I protest, stepping behind the kitchen island as though I can disappear.

"Please?" she begs, dragging the word out.

"One song," Addison chimes in.

"You always say that," I reply. "And I end up playing 30."

"Well not 30," Addison rolls her eyes. "Come on!"

I close my eyes and roll them towards Mom, who just smiles and raises her eyebrows. Dad picks up my guitar and swings it back and forth.

"Agh," I groan, setting down my drink and submitting. They cheer as I settle onto a stool near the fireplace.

"What am I playing?" I sigh.

"Play that one you wrote for me when Sam and I were rocky," Addison calls out.

"Tell the whole world," Sam mutters into his tumbler.

"In your world, there are no secrets," I reply.

I play Addison's song, Fall Apart Today. Then Amelia insists on hearing Turning Tables by Adele, so I switch to the piano, where Mom wants to hear another Adele song, Someone Like You, as soon as I finish the other song. Because she's having a bad day, I don't deny her the song. Afterwards I stand up.

"One more, one more!" Addison and Amelia demand.

"Guys," I cock my head, but Addison puts my guitar back in my hands and smiles. "Lullaby."

Lullaby was one of Mom and Dad's wedding songs, and I see what she's doing so of course I play it. I sang it for them on the 15th anniversary. I see Mom melt a little when she hears the song, giving me a look with her head cocked to one side. I just shrug and tilt my head back at her. Addison just smiles and sips her wine when Mom looks at her.

After the song I put my guitar back in its stand as everyone compliments me until I'm sufficiently uncomfortable.

"Such a beautiful voice," Bubbie holds my face in her hands and kisses my cheek.

The catering manager comes and tells Mom that they're ready to serve dinner. We crowd into the dining room and sit around the huge table. Dad sits at one end and Mom sits at the other. I end up with Addison on my right and Mom on my left, at the end of the table.

Servers bring soup, and everyone settles into easy conversation.

"What about that boy who came to the hospital after your accident _and _after the surgery?" Amelia asks me when the topic turns to boys.

"Silas," Mom replies, and I look at her, confused.

"Oh, I didn't know," I reply.

"We told you. You probably forgot. There was a lot going on, sugar."

"Well, he's just a friend," I explain.

"Not if it was up to him," Amelia says slyly.

I shake my head as Sam, beside Amelia, asks, "What about the other kid? The little brotha' who came by?"

"Axel," Mom says.

"We've been friends since kindergarten," I laugh. "He's one of my b-" I stop before saying a term I can't bear to say. "He's a really good friend," I finish, avoiding everyone's eyes and sipping Pellegrino.

"I like him," Sam says, breaking the silence. "He's a cool kid."

"Yeah, he's great," I agree. "Really smart."

"Looks like you're pretty popular with the fellas," Pete grins.

"Okay, who needs more wine?" Dad asks quickly, and everybody laughs at the segue.

"Y'know, one day, Coop, she _will _go on a date," Violet says.

"Not _to_day," he replies. "Or as long as I can help it."

"Whoever he is, he'll have to have balls. Make it past Charlotte and Cooper," Amelia says. "I'm not sure who's going to be more terrifying."

"Charlotte," everyone answers simultaneously, as I say, "Mom."

"Damn straight," Mom agrees, sipping her martini.

After dinner we spread out on couches and chairs in the living room. Dad and I attempt a few duets on the piano and Nigel snores loudly from his bed near the fireplace.

"It's A-flat," Dad insists, and I laugh.

"It's A-minor! Play it my way, I'll prove it."

We've been arguing over an Adele song for about five minutes. He obliges, plays the key I say, and when I sing the line he stops and hangs his head.

"It's A-minor," he agrees glumly.

"I'm sorry?" I say, my hand by my ear like I can't hear.

"It's A-minor," he repeats, smiling slightly. "You were right."

We start again and I sing the song as Dad plays along.

"You think your Mom will spare me another night?" he asks after, meaning sleeping on the couch.

"Depends. Did you apologize?"

"Yes!"

"Did you _really _apologize? And understand your faux pas?"

"What? Come on! What am I missing?" He looks exasperated.

"Trust, Dad. You went behind her back."

He tinkers around on a few keys, thinking.

"Okay," he sighs. "I'll go again."

"Just be genuine, Dad. She loves you, you love her, you messed up, so just be sorry and fix it."

"You girls always make it sound so simple," he says, getting up.

"And dudes always make it more difficult," I smile. He kisses my forehead and heads towards the balcony.

Addison comes inside and I can see Mom still out there as Dad slips out to talk to her.

I spend the next little while talking with Addison, Amelia, Violet and Bubbie while Sam, Pete and Zeyde stand nearby and talk about basketball. Zeyde loves American basketball. When he and Bubbie came to the States from Poland, he became obsessed. When they adopted Dad, Zeyde taught him to play, but Dad never loved it the way Zeyde does. He was more into Zeyde's piano lessons.

It's cute to watch my 70-year-old grandfather talk sports with two men half his age and fit in, completely comfortable.

"Well, another Charlotte and Cooper feud is forgotten," Amelia says, coming back from the bathroom.

"What do you mean?" Addison asks, as Bubbie gets up for more tea.

"I passed their bedroom on my way to the bath-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I cut her off, holding up my hands. "Stop. Before you destroy what's left of my brain."

"Ahh," Addison smiles knowingly at Amelia.

Bubbie and Zeyde say goodnight soon after the caterer's pack up and leave.

Afterwards the rest of us sit in the living room and play board games. A little while later Mom and Dad reappear. Really, they've only been gone about half an hour, but Amelia makes a show of checking her watch and Addison laughs.

"Where have you guys been?" she asks, feigning concern. Mom sits beside me and rolls her eyes at Addison. We play Mad Gab and everyone is terrible at it, which just makes everyone laugh even harder. When everyone is sufficiently drunk and I'm too tired to watch them struggle through HeadBanz, I say goodnight and take Nigel to bed.

The next morning I'm the first one up. It's Saturday and since we had a dinner party the night before, brunch is a given. I bring in the paper and listen to music on the balcony until Mom comes and lays on the hammock.

"Morning, baby."

"Morning," I reply, working on the crossword puzzle. I hear the faint clink of cups as Bubbie makes tea.

"You sleep okay?"

I nod. Ever since the accident my sleep has been erratic, and I wake up a lot, sometimes from nightmares. Mom eyes me.

"Really. I actually had a decent sleep. I only woke up twice."

She strokes my hair on her way inside.

"I'll wake up your daddy and we'll go to Max's okay?"

"Okay."I sit outside until Mom calls for me to get ready.

On our way out the door Mom's phone buzzes with texts. "Table for 10, apparently," she says.

"None of you drunks can resist a greasy morning-after brunch," I tease.

We arrive at Max's, our favorite brunch place, and find Pete and Violet already there. Addison and Sam meander in soon after, but last minute Amelia texts Mom and says she won't make it.

"Maybe too much drinks for her," Bubbie suggests.

"No," Mom frowns at her phone as she texts back. "Amelia's been cooling it on the booze."

Amelia used to have an issue with painkillers, like Mom. Mom was stuck on them after she caught her then-husband cheating on her, and the woman cheating with her then-husband smashed a vase over Mom's head because she didn't realize she was his wife. How crazy is that? Anyway, she got stuck on the painkillers. Amelia used to take them recreationally, which turned into more of a dependence when she realized she was addicted. She's been having a hard time lately and Mom has had to send her home twice from work for being hungover. So now she was trying to cool it on the sauce, since she recognizes her addictive personality.

"I guess she's picking her friend up from the airport," Mom adds.

"Who?" Addison asks, as the server brings water and orange juice.

"Um..." Mom reads. "Michelle."

"Really?" Addison asks, surprised.

"What?" Dad asks.

"Nothing, it's just...Michelle has Huntington's. Amelia's known her forever. She helped her get in on a trial for it, and she was doing better so she went to Europe. Maybe three months ago."

"That's really sad. She's only, what...33?"

"Around there. She got symptoms early," Addison says.

The server arrives and takes orders.

Afterwards we go home and help Bubbie and Zeyde pack, as they have to leave today. They're going back to Africa to resume their trip. We drive them to the airport and Bubbie cries a little as we say goodbye, promising to call, because now she's terrified that something will happen and she won't find out until later.


	18. Chapter 18

The next day Mom and Dad both have to go to work. Dad has to leave early for a patient at the hospital. Mom is worried about leaving me home alone, but I remind her that it's been weeks and I'm fine. She reluctantly leaves.

Max, one of my friends from school, texts me and asks if I want to get together today. I've declined every one of the invitations I've gotten, from anybody, and I feel bad. I agree, to Max's surprise, and she suggests we go shopping. She says she'll come pick me up, so I have to handle the anxiety I automatically feel, knowing that I'll have to get into a car with someone aside from my parents.

I breathe and relax, practicing everything Violet and I talked about. When Max arrives, she hugs me enthusiastically.

"I've missed you so much," she says as we walk out to her car.

"I missed you, too. I'm sorry. I've been so...I dunno, unavailable?" I follow her and get into the passenger seat, something I've only done maybe two times since the accident. I breathe and make myself focus on Max and not on my anxiety.

"It's okay, don't be sorry. I can't imagine what you've been through," she replies, starting her car. "I totally get needing time to just decompress and sort your own head out. When my Dad died, I missed an entire month of school, too."

I had forgotten that Max's dad had died when we were about 11. He was in Iraq. I smile at her, grateful for her understanding.

"So, you need to be caught up on dish," she grins.

"Max, I don't-"

"I know, I know, you don't care. You're the only person I know who never gossips. It's kind of weird," she glances at me pointedly. "But there are things you need to know."

I chuckle and shake my head.

"So, Jace Atkinson, you know, the man-whore? He got some freshman pregnant. And her dad is a pastor! So she was ripped out of school and is probably being waterboarded with Holy water somewhere."

"Wow," I nod slowly, checking my phone and realizing it's almost dead. "Hey, do you have your iPhone charger?"

"No, I switched to an Android. Anyway, Sarah and Mikelty were caught banging rails in the girl's washroom like a week before school was out, so they have to spend the first month of senior year in detention,_ and _their parents are making both of them go to NA meetings all summer."

"Good," I reply. "How stupid do you have to be to not realize how messed up coke is."

"Totally. Also," Max barely skips a beat. "Jessica Peterson had sex with both of the Miller twins. On the same night. Apparently Roman took a video. She hasn't been to a party since."

I shake my head as she pulls off the freeway and drives towards the mall.

"Oh, and everyone misses you. Casey tried to be a bitch about it at Axel's like a month ago-something along the lines of you need to get over it-but holy shit, you should have seen Axel lose his mind on her! He made her leave and told her she's not welcome at his house anymore. Ever."

"What a guy," I reply.

"Yeah. He has zero patience for any of that shit."

We reach the spot where we always park.

"Jenelle and Meg are here somewhere," Max says, tossing her keys into her bag.

"I didn't realize how long it's been since I've seen anybody," I say, feeling guilty. "In my head, the time has felt different."

"I know," Max says, matter-of-factly. "We're all still here. We all knew'd be here when you could."

I'm so grateful that my friends aren't furious with me and my absence, and I realize how much I've missed them, too.

"I need jeans," Max says abruptly. "Let's hit 7 first."

We go to 7 for all Mankind and I start to feel normal, just shopping with Max, doing something I used to do all the time. I feel like the only girl I've spent any time with in so long is Mom. And I love her, but it's nice to be with my friends. Jenelle and Meg find us and we all spend the afternoon shopping and catching up.

"So, can I ask? About the brain surgery story?" Meg asks carefully.

"Oh, I'm fine. It was a bleed, so the surgery clipped the spot that was bleeding," I shrug. "I guess I passed out in front of an entire room of people. Pretty embarrassing. But I feel fine."

"Do you have a scar?"

I lift my bangs along the left side of my head where the scars are. The thin white one is now overshadowed by the thicker, fresher one that interrupts my hairline.

"That actually looks pretty bad ass," Jenelle nods.

They ask about the surgery and I tell them about the temporary amnesia, which makes them stare at me like I'm an alien.

Soon Max checks her phone and says we need to head out.

"I have dinner with my mom at 7:00," she explains.

"What time is it?" I ask, suddenly worried.

"Six."

I didn't realize I've been gone for four hours, and my phone's been dead. If Mom or Dad has tried to call, they'd just get my voicemail.

Max drops me off and I feel a bit nervous when I see both cars in the driveway. When I open the front door and drop my bags, Mom appears, her eyes blazing with the look that makes anyone instantly fear for their life.

"Where in God's name have you been?" she demands. Dad appears by her side.

"I was with Max. I'm sorry...my phone died," I explain, but Mom is furious.

"I have been sitting here for over an hour, worried sick," she says, her eyes glassy.

"Mom," I begin, but she holds her arm out towards the stairs.

"Go to your room," she demands. After a second she makes eye contact. "Now."

I go upstairs, hearing Dad try to calm her down.

"She's fine," he says. "She's fine, and she's safe. Her phone died, like I said."

"I haven't been able to breathe since I walked in that door!"

I close my bedroom door and change into some sweatpants before plugging my phone into its charger.

Dad comes in awhile later, looking at me the way he does when I'm in trouble. Half-sorry, half you-should-have-known-better.

"She sharpening her knives to skin me?" I say, putting down my book.

"Perhaps," he replies, sitting on the bed and petting Nigel. "She just needs to cool down. She was just scared. You've barely been out of our sight for months, after you almost died. Twice. Pretty scary."

"I know...I'm sorry."

"I know," he nods. "Just try to leave a note or something next time. Save your mother's blood pressure some trouble."

"Okay."

"Did you have fun?" he asks.

"Yeah," I nod after a moment. "It was good to see them. I missed them."

"I bet. They haven't seen you since, what April?"

A few minutes later I look up and see Mom leaning against the door frame, her arms folded across her chest.

"I'll leave you and the taxidermist alone," Dad says, getting up and avoiding Mom's unimpressed.

She looks at me and I can tell her anger has subsided.

"Y'know, you probably won't get much for human skin...in this day and age," I say. She dips her head to one side, giving me a look as she comes into the room.

"I'm sorry I got so angry. But I think you can understand the issue here."

I nod, glancing over at Nigel.

"You have any idea how scared I was?"

"Based on your flawless Hulk impersonation, yes."

"Alright, smart-mouth," she says, but I can tell she's not angry. "You best leave a note next time. And make sure you charge your phone, or send a text before you leave."

"I will," I promise. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know you didn't, baby," she reaches out and pulls me into a hug. "But for the love of God, child, you are giving me grey hairs."

"You should get highlights," I say, and she pokes my ribs, tickling me.

Then she asks how my day was, glad to know that I at least saw some of my friends and got out.

"Hey, how's Amelia's friend? The one she picked up from the airport?" I ask.

"I'm not sure. She wasn't in today," Mom replies.

"I was going to come with you tomorrow. If that's okay," I say.

"You placating your mama right now?" she eyes me.

"Absolutely," I say.

She smiles and pulls me up off the bed. "Come on. Let's feed your daddy before he starts eating the furniture."

"Thank _God_," we hear Dad moan from their bedroom.

"And you can show me what you bought today," Mom laughs.


	19. Chapter 19

The next day I hang out at the practice. Amelia comes in late, and when she sees Pete and Sheldon in the kitchen she comes in and closes the door.

"I need to ask you something," she says.

Pete and Sheldon look at each other, and I wonder if Amelia even realizes I'm here, because from where she's standing she can't see me, lounging in an armchair in the corner.

"Both of you," she says, in response to both men pointing to their own chests. "Physician-assisted suicide. Where do you stand?"

I look up, surprised, and make eye-contact with Sheldon.

"Uh," he starts, looking back to Amelia.

"This is a little above my maturity level," I say, standing up as Amelia realizes I'm here. She looks surprised but I quickly walk out and take my magazine to a couch outside, near Violet's office.

I read for a few minutes before a man comes and sits on the arm of the couch.

"Hello," he says.

"Hi," I glance up.

"What are you reading?"

"Scientific American," I reply, showing the cover.

"I've never read it. Is it good?"

"I like it. It has some pretty interesting articles."

This guy seems kind of weird, almost awkward.

"I like to read National Geographic. Do you?"

Before I realize what's going on, everyone is yelling and Sam grabs me from the couch and practically carries me away, towards Mom, who grabs me.

"Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?" she demands fiercely.

"What? No! What are you talking about?" I ask, frowning.

Violet has taken the guy into her office, and clearly Dad has tried to get to him because Sam and Pete are holding him back and Dad's breathing heavily.

"He didn't touch you? At all?" Mom takes my chin in her hand and stares at me sharply.

"No, Mom. What is going on?"

"He's Violet's patient. He's...a pedophile. He wasn't supposed to leave her office."

I don't know what to say, but Dad comes over and grabs me, hugging me. He pulls away and holds my shoulders.

"Are you okay? He never touched you?"

"I'm fine," I say, getting annoyed.

Mom is too disturbed by the whole thing so she makes me stay in her office for the rest of the day. Even after the guy is gone, escorted out by a security guard, Mom tells me to stay here.

"Mom," I ask, as she works at her desk and I stretch out on a couch and read.

"Mmhmm?"

"Do you believe in physician-assisted suicide?"

She looks up, frowning in thought. "I suppose it depends on the situation. Why?"

"Um," I glance out the glass walls, partially obscured by wooden blinds. "Amelia. She was asking Pete and Sheldon about it. Before I left the kitchen."

"Really?" Mom looks worried.

"Do you think it's about her friend? Michelle?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Well, she has Huntington's, right? Maybe she wants Amelia to...y'know." I wave a hand. "Help her."

"Help?" Mom raises her eyebrows.

"I know I wouldn't want to live with it," I reply with a shrug, and a few moments later Mom gets up and leaves.

She's gone for longer than we expected, so Dad and I go for lunch and walk along the beach with tacos.

"Probably freaked you out, huh?" he asks, when he brings up Violet's patient.

"Well, the commotion more so than the guy himself," I reply. "He wasn't even touching me, he was on the arm of the couch."

"Not the point, honey. You know that."

"Yeah," I nod. "I know. He was a little creepy, though."

When we get back to the office, Mom is back.

"Where'd you go? You didn't answer your phone," Dad says as he kisses her.

"I took Amelia to a meeting," she replies. "After much persuasion."

"How come?"

"She's just...got a lot going on. She seems a little tense."

"Did she talk about Michelle?" I ask.

"Yeah, baby," she looks sad. "I think you were right."

"About what?" Dad asks.

"Amelia was asking Sheldon and Pete about physician-assisted suicide," Mom explains.

"Oh, god," he frowns.

"Yeah," Mom says glumly. "This whole situation could just go right sour."

Addison comes to get Mom for a consult, and Dad has a patient so I pull out a book and sit on the couch. After a little while, Amelia comes in.

"Oh. Hey, Kati," she mumbles, distracted. "Your mom busy?"

"Consult with Addison," I reply. She hesitates and then sits down across from me.

"So you heard what I said this morning," she says.

I nod.

"What do you think? I mean, where do you stand?"

I stare at her, surprised. "You want to know what _I _think?"

She nods.

"Well...I..." I automatically think of Jamie. "I would hate to see my best friend, or anyone I loved, in pain."

"So you know I mean Michelle," she seems a little surprised.

"I figured," I shrug.

"So if it was-had been, Jamie..." she says, and the name hits me harder than I expected it would.

"Amelia," comes a sharp voice from the doorway, and we look up to see Mom standing there."Baby, give us a minute, will ya?" she asks, walking into the room and placing the file she's holding on her desk.

I get up and pass Amelia, who is looking annoyed.

"It was just a question, Charlotte," she says as I reach the door.

"And not an appropriate one for my child," Mom retorts.

I close the door and go to the kitchen where Violet, Sheldon and Pete are.

"Hey," Violet smiles. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," I reply, because I know she means what happened earlier. "Really, he was just talking about magazines. National Geographic."

"I know. He just shouldn't have left my office."

"Whoa, what are Charlotte and Amelia going at it about?" Pete asks, looking over and seeing to two of them gesturing wildly in conversation, neither of them looking happy.

"Same thing she asked you guys this morning," I reply.

"What?" Violet asks.

"Physician-assisted suicide," Pete answers.

"Oh, god," Violet rubs her forehead. "Michelle."

"She knows the ethics of it," Sheldon says half-heartedly.

"Yeah, but she's too close to the situation. She can't, or won't, be totally rational because of it," Violet explains.

"Can you blame her?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"I just think it would be really painful to watch someone you love go through something so heartbreaking, especially when you know it's terminal. And especially if you had the power to...help," I explain.

I see Violet and Sheldon about the speak so I finish with, "I know. I know. 'First do no harm'. But is it doing more harm than good to let someone suffer like that?"

I can tell Pete agrees, but Sheldon seems irked by the situation and Violet looks thoughtful.

"Double-edged sword, I guess," I sigh, going to the fridge for a drink.

Amelia barges in, frustrated.

"God! She can be so...ridiculous!" She runs her hands through her hair. I see Mom look into the kitchen as a patient enters her office.

"Charlotte is only trying to help," Sheldon says, but Amelia just laughs angrily.

"Pete, how can you not have my side? What about Henry Tenor?" she demands.

This is news to me, and clearly to Sheldon who looks at Pete with surprise.

"You did it?"

"Henry was 78, and in a lot of pain. He had pancreatic cancer, final stages. By the time I got to his house for a house-call, he'd already eaten two bowls of chocolate pudding mixed with enough painkillers and sleeping pills to kill a horse," Pete retorts.

"But you had agreed. To help him," Amelia counters.

After a moment Pete nods.

"Amelia, Michelle is 33 years old. And she is asking _you _to _do _it. Just you," Violet reasons.

"I promised her." She stares at Violet, her eyes swimming.

I don't say it out loud, but I'm with Amelia on this one.

A few moments later, after arguing with Sheldon, Amelia storms out of the practice. Addison comes into the kitchen.

"Where is she going? She has patients."

"You should probably reschedule. All of them," Violet sighs.

At dinner that night, as expected, Amelia is the topic of conversation.

"She can't. We would all have an obligation to report what we know. She'd lose her license. _We _would, too, if we did nothing and someone found out," Mom says, pushing food around her plate.

"If you don't see it happen, who really knows?" I say.

"Baby, I know you mean well, but there is so much more to it."

"Does there have to be? What if it were me?" I demand.

"Kate," Dad says gently.

"No, answer me. What if I had a painful, debilitating, terminal disease? And you knew I would _never _get better? Would you not help me? Put me out of the misery? You honestly think you would 'do the right thing'?" I use my fingers to make quotation marks. "Or would the right thing, for you, mean doing whatever it took to help me?"

They look at each other and sigh.

"Think of the feelings and emotions that come with helping someone to end their life," Dad reasons gently.

"Think of the feelings and emotions that come with watching that person, someone you love, spend everyday miserable, and in pain, until they die."

"Sweetie," Dad begins. "I know it's hard to consider, but some things-"

"No!" I cut him off, getting up from the table. I don't know why I'm so worked up about it, but I feel so angry and all I think about is Jamie.

I run upstairs, ignoring them as they call my name.


	20. Chapter 20

Awhile later Mom gets paged. Amelia and Michelle just arrived in an ambulance. Michelle had apparently been found unconscious.

"Yeah, right," I hear Mom say, as she and Dad talk in their bedroom. "I have to go down there. Make sure you talk to Kati," she sighs. "Or...I don't know. I don't know how to handle this one."

"I'll talk to her," Dad says softly. "Go."

A little while later he knocks on my door, but I don't answer. Instead I keep playing my guitar.

Mom gets home a couple hours later. I crack my bedroom door to listen.

"They're calling it an accidental reaction to barbitol," she says. "Amelia refused to speak to me, but we all know there was nothing accidental about it. She's a mess."

"And Michelle?"

"Stable," Mom replies. "How's Kati? Did you talk to her?"

"I was denied entry," he replies. Mom sighs.

"How do I tell me own child that I'd let her suffer?" she asks. "I can't lie."

"I know," Dad soothes.

"I'd help her in a second. But how can I advocate Amelia when we've all taken the same oath? And if we, heaven forbid, were in the situation, how could I actually push that plunger and end her life?"

"Kati knows," Dad tells her. "And she's old enough now to be set in her beliefs. We both know she'd never hurt anybody. I think this is just a situation where we have to forget about the rules and be honest."

I close my door and turn off my light. I pretend to be asleep when Mom creeps in and kisses my forehead, whispering that she loves me.

The next morning Max texts me, so instead of hanging out at the practice I opt to stay home and lounge by the pool with her and Megan and Jenelle.

"Okay, sugar. I'm leavin'. Let me know if you girls go somewhere else," Mom says. "And...baby. About yesterday..."

"It's okay. I know. We're on the same page," I reply.

"I wouldn't let you suffer. I couldn't," she finishes anyway.

"I get it," I reply. "The moral obligations and professionalism. I just think family is different."

"I know," she smiles, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

"Is she okay? Michelle?"

"She was stable last night. I'll see how everything is today."

She pours coffee into her travel mug, kisses my cheek and leaves.

I'm guessing Dad is sleeping in, so I finish breakfast and go to change into a bikini before the girls come over.

By noon we're all lounging by the pool, and Dad comes outside tiredly rubbing his eyes.

"Morning, Dr. Freedman," Max calls.

"Morning, girls," he yawns. "What time is it?"

"Noon," I reply. "How late were you up?"

"I got called in around midnight. Didn't get home until four."

"Brutal," Max calls.

"Yes," Dad nods, clearly groggy.

"Mom left coffee. Should be semi-fresh," I say. He salutes me and heads inside.

After awhile he comes back out to let me know that he's going to play squash with Sam.

"Oo, the famous Dr. Feelgood?" Jenelle grins.

"Yyyes," Dad says, but then looks confused by his own answer. "Are you girls staying here?"

"Mmhmm," I reply. "A couple more people might come by, if that's okay?"

"Sure, honey," he replies. "I'll see you in a couple hours. Love you."

"Love you," I reply.

An hour later Silas, Axel and Chase are over and everyone is hanging outside, swimming, eating and listening to music. Dad gets home with Sam in tow.

"Hey, gorgeous," he kisses my cheek.

"Hey. How was squash?"

"Schooled your old man," he replies, taking the water that Dad offers.

"Barely," Dad grumbles. "You mind if we crash your party and sit out here?"

"Not at all," Jenelle pipes up from her lounge chair.

"Just keep a wide berth from Lolita over there," I say under my breath to Sam. He chuckles and goes to sit at the shaded table with Dad. Axel and Silas are near there, choosing music from Axel's iPod.

"Sup, Dr. Freedman," Axel greets them, side-slapping their hands. "Dr. Bennett. Yo, thanks for letting us chill by your pool all day."

"Anytime, buddy," Dad replies, and the four of them get into a conversation about the Lakers.

"Your dad is awesome," Megan says, as we lounge on some beach chairs. "And his friends are hot."

"And about 40," I add. To which Megan shrugs and giggles with Jenelle.

Everyone stays for the afternoon and then heads out to a party at Bree McDonnell's house. They pester me about it, but I decline the invite. It's a good thing I do because after Mom's been home for about an hour she gets a phone call. Michelle, who was staying at Amelia's house, was found dead. The doctor on the phone said she'd killed herself; that Amelia had found her after work. Mom says she has to go see her, because Amelia is refusing to leave her house.

"I'm coming," I say. Mom looks at me sadly.

"Baby..."

"I'm coming," I repeat, and go out to the car before she can say anything else.

There are still a couple of cop cars outside Amelia's. When we approach the door a cop steps forward and Mom explains who she is. When we open the front door, Amelia is alone in her living room. There's a bottle of red wine on the coffee table next to a prescription bottle, and Amelia looks terrible.

"Amelia," Mom says quietly, setting down her purse.

"She promised. She said she wouldn't. She said we'd do it together...we'd get through it..." She is monotone and in disbelief of everything. Something I understand all too well. I pass Mom and sit down beside Amelia. Mom takes the wine into the kitchen and pours it out, and then flushes the pills.

Amelia looks up at me after a second, and we understand each other. The pain of losing your very best friend. She wraps her arms around me and cries until there's nothing left inside of her.

We stay at Amelia's overnight and in the morning Addison and Violet show up, so Mom and I go home. Later on Addison phones to say that Amelia was acting weird. She'd asked them to leave, saying she was fine, but we all know she isn't.

"I'll stop by later," Mom promises. This time she wants to go alone. I hear her tell Dad that she doesn't want me to see what she is certain she'll find: Amelia drunk, or messed up on pills.

"She's going to spiral," Mom sighs. "I just know it. And she won't accept help from anybody."

When Mom gets home, she says that Amelia's off the wagon, so to speak.

"She was definitely on something," she says tiredly. "Slammed the door in my face, closed the blinds and had some guy with her. Won't even answer my calls."

She calls Addison, who promises to go over, but Mom's worried because if Amelia's doing pills, she's back to square one. And no one wants to be there.


	21. Chapter 21

Things go from bad to worse when Grandma calls the next morning. Big Daddy's not doing well. Grandma tells Mom we need to come. So tickets are bought and within an hour we're heading to the airport.

Mom stays quiet, and Dad and I know she's just trying to keep herself calm. Two years ago Big Daddy's doctor gave him six months to live, after discovering cancer in his lungs. He's been fighting it ever since, but now it seems as though he's tired.

Big Daddy is a harsh man. He's sweet as can be towards Mom and me, but with his sons, their sons, their wives and even Dad, he is not. Mom always said he was a son of a bitch, and he knew it, but that he didn't care.

I sit with Mom while we wait for our flight. Dad goes to get some magazines. I focus on breathing, because if I cry, Mom will. She pretends to read while we wait to board.

The flight is long and eventually, I fall asleep. When I wake up my head is in Mom's lap and she forces a smile.

"Hey."

"Hey," I reply, sitting up and stretching. "How much longer?"

"About 20 minutes," she replies. Dad keeps his hand on her leg and we all work at staying calm.

When we land there's a chauffeur waiting for us. The drive to the huge southern Alabama plantation house in the country takes over an hour, and when we arrive only Duke and Landry, Mom's brothers, are outside, each with a tumbler of bourbon in hand. They hug Mom and I, shake hands with Dad.

"Where's Mama?" Mom asks, but she already knows.

"Oh, you know. She's gone to bed with a bottle and taken to the vapors," Landry replies, his accent noticeably thicker than Mom's. Hers gets thicker as soon as she's around her brothers.

'The vapors' is an old-fashioned term for, basically, hysteria-when a situation is too much to handle. It's always referred to as that, or the 'woman's condition' down here.

"And Big Daddy?" Mom asks, feigning an unbreakable front, but one that her brothers believe. Only because she doesn't break in front of them. Ever. They believe she's the toughest woman they know, and I'm sure she is. She's always taken care of them.

"Not so good. Doc was by yesterday. Said it's time to pull the plug, but...well, you weren't here yet, were you?" Landry replies.

This means neither of them will be able to do the job themselves, and that Mom will end up being the one who has to take their father off the respirator.

Mom thanks the driver for unloading our bags and tips him while Dad starts hauling bags inside, with the help of my uncles.

"Well. Let's see him, then," Mom replies, taking my hand like I'm a child and walking inside. I'm glad she's keeping me from falling, but I know that my hand is for her own strength as well as mine.

Upstairs in Big Daddy's enormous room with the fireplace, vaulted ceilings and expansive windows, his nurse is adjusting his oxygen and taking his vitals. Duke and Landry stay downstairs with the bourbon while Mom, Dad and I go in.

I haven't seen Big Daddy in about a year, but he still looks the same-large and formidable. He's asleep, sedated to keep him comfortable. The nurse talks with Mom as I stand there, staring at my pale grandfather, asleep in his enormous bed. Dad keeps an arm around me.

"He was in pain?" I ask.

"He was," Dad nods. "But not now. The medicine they've got him on makes him comfortable. See?" He points to a small tray with extra vials of morphine next to two empty ones.

"He's comfortable?" I ask. I know he is, but I want to hear it.

"He is, sweetie."

I sit beside Big Daddy and hold his hand. Mom is asking the nurse questions and Dad goes to stand with her because we can see her eyes start to look glassy even as she maintains her unbreakable demeanor with the nurse.

I stare at my grandfather and remember how he used to lift me up with one arm and walk me around the acreage, pointing out specific trees and his own livestock, so proud when I'd beat him to it and name the trees myself. How he'd tell me I was the most beautiful little girl in the world, just like his little Charlotte, and just as tough and fiery, especially when I'd help wrestle a calf to the ground during branding and gelding. Mom said he got such a kick out of watching me play paintball, beating men twice my age at a sport that not a lot of girls play.

He's gruff and hard and he's always been okay with being known as a son of a bitch. But he's my grandfather, and I love him. I feel my eyes sting as I stare at him, and after a moment, his eyes open the tiniest bit.

"Little Kati," he rasps through his oxygen mask. I smile through my tears.

"Hey Big Daddy," I whisper.

"Those better not be tears," he croaks. "Kings don't cry."

I laugh shortly. "This damn Alabama dust in my eyes," I reply. He nods once, slowly.

"Beautiful girl," he manages, as Mom reaches the bed.

"Daddy," she says, and he looks at her and smiles, but for him you can barely tell it's a smile-only his eyes soften a bit.

"Don't you be going soft now, Charlotte," he rasps. "Someone's gotta maintain the King name, and those brothers of yours aren't about to step up."

Mom shakes her head, meaning she's not going soft, and manages to keep tears from coming.

"We both know I don't need you tellin' me how to roost my chickens," she retorts. He chuckles, short and quiet.

"You just do what needs to be done," he orders. She keeps her head high and nods shortly. He looks her in the eye for a second longer than usual, and then closes his eyes and falls back asleep in a drug-induced haze.

Mom clears her throat and I stand up.

"I'm going outside," I say, and leave before Dad can even finish saying my name.

I run down the stairs and through the giant atrium, past Duke and Landry on the porch and over the lawn all the way to the stables. It's a three-minute run and when I reach the stables, I'm out of breath.

One of the workers looks up, startled by me.

"Miss Kati!" he says.

"Hi, Jorge. Do you mind if I take Bluegrass out for a run?" I ask breathlessly. Wordlessly he shakes his head and gestures towards the stall. I spin around and go get my favourite horse and a bridle. I forego the saddle, leading Bluegrass out of the barn. As soon as we're outside I slip on her bridle and hoist myself up onto her back, nudging her into a run. As we gallop away, I see Mom and Dad on the second-story balcony, watching.

I stay out with Bluegrass for over an hour. I feel like I have had to deal with too much death, too close together. I'm not naive enough to believe that people will be around forever. I understand that death happens, I just feel like I haven't had enough time to process so much of it. I don't understand why all of these things are happening.

Bluegrass and I end up on a hill overlooking a neighbouring ranch. They have a huge man-made pond on their property and I sit on Bluegrass as she grazes and just watch the sun, setting now, over the glittery water.

When I get back, Jorge smiles.

"Did you have a beautiful time, Miss Kati?"

I smile. "I did, Jorge. Thank you."

He reaches for the reins.

"I can do it."

"Oh, no," he grins. "You did my job already by taking Bluegrass for the running. And Miss Charlotte would like you to get ready for dinner."

I grin, a little sad. I wish I could stay out here in the stable; avoid everything.

As I get near the house I see Mom, Dad and my uncles on the porch. My uncles are half-snapped and Mom must be on her third martini because her smile looks lazy. Dad sips a bourbon.

"Hey, baby girl. How was the ride?" Mom asks.

"Nice," I reply, nodding and sitting beside her on the porch swing.

"Dinner's in about half an hour. Why don't you go wash up?"

I smile, trying to maintain a strong front for her, because I know the gin is just masking her pain. She kisses my forehead and I go inside.

I always stay in Mom's childhood bedroom when we're here. Like Big Daddy's, it has vaulted ceilings, huge windows and a balcony. There's a bathroom en suite, as well. Dad's already brought my bags up, so I take a quick shower and change into a simple sundress.

"You look beautiful, sugar," Mom smiles as I sit beside her. Duke and Landry's wives, Emma and Celia, have arrived and in the distance I can see my cousins wrestling around near the tire swings. I greet my aunts, asking how they've been.

"You want a bourbon, Kati girl?" Duke grins mischievously.

"My child most certainly does not need bourbon in her belly," Mom retorts.

"Ha!" Landry replies. "I seem to remember you and cousin Mabry just barely 15 and dipping into Big Daddy's decanter!"

Duke joins in laughing, "He knew it was you, and he whipped us for it instead!"

"He most certainly did not!" Mom replies. "Mabry replaced it with uncle Henry's stash, and you two got into it the next weekend. Tried to fill it back up with water, like a couple of sneaks and _that's _why you a whippin'!"

Duke and Landry laugh and Dad chuckles.

"Fifteen and into the bourbon," he shakes his head.

"Well at least I was smart and realized what stayin' in the bourbon would mean," she shoots at Duke. He laughs off the insult.

"Well then you should have no qualms with giving my niece a sip. For her grandfather."

I shake my head, rolling my eyes, but Mom says, "Fine. I know my child well enough. She knows better."

She reaches out and snatches Duke's tumbler, with at least two fingers of bourbon in it.

"Sugar," Mom holds it out to me. "For your grand-daddy."

I stare at her for a second, and she raises her eyebrows and holds it closer to me. I look at Dad and he shakes his head, laughing. I shrug and take the glass, cheers with Landry's glass, and down the bourbon in one gulp. I hate the burn in my throat.

Duke and Landry laugh and cheer.

Mom looks surprised but then takes my outstretched glass and says, "Well that'll hold you off until you're 21."

"Child's smart enough to know better anyways, Charlotte," Landry adds. "Like she'd get away with anything by you, anyhow."

Mom reaches out a leg to kick at him as Maggie, the housekeeper, comes out and tells us it's dinner time. Grandma refuses to come out of her room, so for dinner it's Mom, Dad, Duke, Landry, Emma, Celia and my four little cousins and me.

With Southern money comes Southern customs. Duke and Landry still live here in Alabama, so they do this frequently-the long dinners and flowing bourbon. This dinner takes about three hours, and while they are all having dessert and coffee with bourbon, the boys take to the living room to wrestle each other for the TV remote, and I excuse myself and go upstairs.

I hear Grandma in her room, crying and clinking a glass against something; a bottle probably. I know tomorrow is going to be hard. I know Mom is going to have a worse day, because she feels that it's her responsibility to 'pull the plug' on Big Daddy. I pass Big Daddy's room, and hear the steady buzz and hum of all the machines.

Mom said that while I was out riding, the nurse had to put a breathing tube in for Big Daddy. Now the tube is breathing for him, because his body is getting so tired. I look inside and see him asleep. Silently, I creep inside until I'm right beside his bed. I reach out and touch his cheek. I stand there for a few minutes, wordlessly saying goodbye. When I feel like a sob might slip out, I quickly leave and shut myself into Mom's old room, burying myself, fully clothed, beneath the covers.


	22. Chapter 22

When I wake up the next morning, it's sunny and bright out. It's inappropriately beautiful for what today holds.

I hear people talking so I go brush my teeth and open my bedroom door. Dad and Mom are standing in the hallway near Grandma's bedroom door.

"Morning, sugar," Mom says. "You sleep okay? You went to bed pretty early. You were right out when I checked on you around midnight." Her eyes are glassy.

"Yeah. I'm fine...what's going on?"

Mom hesitates and looks at Dad.

"Your grandma wants to, um...not be...present. Today. And neither do Duke and Landry."

I take a deep breath, turning and looking out the window. After a moment I look back up at them.

"Well, we will," I try to smile but fail, barely a grin gracing my face.

Mom reaches out and hugs me quickly, as her eyes water.

"Why don't you get some breakfast. Daddy and I'll be right down."

I leave them and go find some orange juice. Maggie has made eggs Benedict, the Freedman family favourite.

"You're skin and bones, child," she fusses over me, sitting me at the table. "Just like your mama. All petite and starvin' at the same time."

Maggie has been here since Mom was 12. Now she takes care of Grandma and Big Daddy, and is always happy when we visit. Mom and Dad come downstairs.

"Oh, Maggie, you're an angel," Dad sighs, seeing breakfast.

"Go on, sit down, Miss Charlotte. Will you be having coffee?" Maggie asks.

"Yes, please. Thank you, Maggie."

We sit together, trying not to think about what happens after breakfast. Mom and Dad talk about the funeral, planned for Friday.

"That soon?" I ask.

"Big Daddy's orders," Mom replies.

After breakfast I excuse myself and go shower. When I come out, Mom is standing by the window.

"I used to sneak out of this window to go to parties with Mabry," she says.

"Maybe I should be a lot more rebellious," I suggest.

"I think you've got just the right amount of your mama in you," she smiles, sadly. "Don't go gettin' any ideas."

We stand there and stare out at the acreage for a few minutes before Mom sighs and tells me we can't put off the inevitable.

"You don't have to be there, sugar. I know this has been the worst year for you," Mom offers, as we stand outside Big Daddy's door.

Even when her own heart is breaking, she's thinking about mine.

"I'm here," I reply, unwavering. She brushes some hair behind my ear, then Dad takes her hand and we go into Big Daddy's room.

His nurse is putting things away, and when she sees us she respectfully leaves. The three of us stand near the door. I can feel the tight feeling at the back of my throat, but I fight it and blink rapidly against my stinging tears. Standing at his bedside, we watch him sleep, his chest moving as the respirator breathes for him. Today he is sedated heavily, as per his wishes. Our last conversation has already happened-he won't wake up today.

Dad reaches for Mom's hand but she stiffens and he knows she just needs a few minutes; that a hug or a touch would break her. She looks back at the machines and stares at the button. Her hands shakes as she reaches for it, so Dad wraps her hand in his and squeezes it. After a second he lets go and puts his thumb on the switch instead.

Mom looks at him and after a moment, she nods slightly. She takes my hand and holds it tightly as Dad clicks the button off, and the whir of machinery dies down. After a few moments, we watch as Big Daddy's chest falls and does not rise again. Mom's eyes widen the slightest bit, but she remains silent, and Dad takes her other hand. I feel weird, like this isn't real.

Mom keeps her head high, saying, "Well. That's that."

She straightens her shoulders and leaves the room.

Dad and I let her go, knowing that she just wants to be alone right now.

Mom maintains her frozen indifference. She's polite towards the guests who arrive after the funeral. She arranges the food for the service. She still kisses me good morning and good night, but she stays so busy that no one can have a conversation with her. Grandma comes out for the funeral, and promptly retreats back to her room, where a housekeeper later brings a bottle of bourbon. The day after the funeral, Mom bumps up our flight and after saying goodbye to Maggie, Duke and Landry (Grandma refuses to come out) we leave for the airport.

My eyes are red from crying the past couple nights, and I'm exhausted. I sit by the window with Mom on my right, and Dad across the aisle from her. It's a red-eye flight and most people decide to sleep. Mom just stares straight ahead. Until halfway through the flight when she sharply inhales. I look up and then over at Dad, knowing that Mom is about to break. Sure enough, her face contorts like she's trying not to cry and she presses against her seatbelt. Dad reaches out as she unbuckles it and pulls her into his lap before she can run to the bathroom. The flight attendant looks over as she hears Mom stifle a sob, but Dad holds up a hand to let her know that it's okay. And Mom stays curled up on Dad's lap, finally breaking down and letting go, as tears stream down both of our faces.


	23. Chapter 23

We're all exhausted when we finally get home. Violet, who was taking care of Nigel for us, has left flowers all over the kitchen. I take a bouquet with my name on it up to my room. They're white lilies and white hibiscus-my favourites.

After dumping my luggage, I crawl into bed with Nigel and fall asleep. I don't even hear Mom come in to turn off my light and kiss me goodnight.

The next morning Mom gets busy and stays busy. She returns emails and phone calls, makes breakfast and showers before I'm even up. When I come downstairs she's wearing yoga clothes and tells me to go change after breakfast, because we're going to hot yoga.

"What? Why? We haven't gone in months."

Since before the accident, actually. Before that, we went four days a week.

"Exactly," Mom replies, setting orange juice in front of me. "Time to smarten up."

When we get to the studio, Addison there too.

"Hey," she smiles. "How, um, how are you guys doing?"

"Fine," I reply, stuffing my bag into a locker.

"I'm going to stretch," Mom says, and leaves to find a spot.

"Before yoga?" Addison frowns, and then looks at me. "Oh. Keeping busy enough to try and not think of what happened and avoid crying?"

I nod, tying my hair back. She leans in and hugs me.

"I'm so sorry about your grandfather."

I smile, fake and tight-lipped, but she ignores the silence and suggests we go lay out our mats. There's lots of room so we go on either side of Mom.

Within a few minutes the class begins and I spend the next 90 minutes focusing on my breathing and my body.

Afterwards, in the change room, Mom asks Addison about Amelia.

"Oh," Addison makes a face. "I don't-"

"Come on, Montgomery. We both know she has to hit rock bottom. How close is she?"

Addison glances at me before replying. "Close. She's been holed with some guy. Been on a bender. There was some oxy on the coffee table."

"Oxy? Don't tell me she's writin' her own prescriptions?" Mom asks.

"No, for other people. Or person, I guess. The guy. His name was on the bottles. It's bad," she sighs. "I think I have to call Derek. Or Nancy."

"The bitchy sister? No. I'll talk to her," Mom states.

Addison looks unsure and Mom rolls her eyes.

"Can't sit and wait for the cows, Montgomery. Things don't fix themselves." She grabs her gym bag and says, "Come on, baby," and heads out of the change room.

I look at Addison and shrug, unsure of what to say. She touches my hair as I pass, saying goodbye.

On the way home Mom takes an unnecessary left.

"Mom," I begin.

"God helps those who help themselves, baby. And I should like to think Amelia needs a push to start helpin' herself."

When we get to Amelia's I don't get out. After a few moments Mom comes back outside. She's carrying a bunch of prescription bottles.

After a second Amelia barges out of the house, squinting in the sunlight, dressed in pajama shorts and a tank top. She was clearly just woken up.

"God dammit, Charlotte, mind your own fucking business!" she yells. Mom spins around.

"You are my business, Amelia. And I'm not going to sit around and do nothin' while you spiral down, throwin' your whole damn life away! If you're not gonna help your own damn self, someone has to. From this moment on, your hospital privileges are suspended. And you better get your damn life together before Addison calls that bitch of a sister of yours. Then you'll _really _be screwed. Now listen," she softens the slightest bit. "I am sorry, truly, about what happened to your friend. But throwing your life, your _future_, away, is just about the stupidest thing you could do. And I care about you too much to sit here and watch you try to tread water when you can't swim. Smarten up, Amelia."

She keeps her fierce, unfaltering stare trained on Amelia the entire time, before turning and walking around the car to get into the driver's seat.

Amelia yells in frustration and then storms back into the house, slamming the front door. Mom dumps the bag of prescription bottles on the console between us. I pick up a bottle.

"Oxycontin?"

"Looks like she's been havin' a real party," Mom spits out. Her right hand flexes into a fist as we stare at the pile of bottles. Instinctively, I toss the bottle I'm holding back into the bag, wanting to get it away. Mom tosses the bag into the backseat and picks up her phone. She calls the hospital and orders any and all of Dr. Shepherd's prescriptions to be void, and for any incoming requests to be forwarded to her.

"Wow," I mumble. Mom looks over at me. "Intense," I say quietly. She squeezes my hand and starts the car.

Instead of going straight home, Mom drives to the practice to talk to Dad and Violet. Addison arrives a little while after us.

"Did you go talk to her?" she asks Mom.

"Tried. Girl's stubborn and waist-deep in mud."

"With enough opiates to quell Lindsay Lohan," I mumble.

Addison rubs her forehead. "What else is she taking? Or is she sticking to the oxy?"

"Mostly. Some codeine. And morphine," Mom answers.

"Christ," Addison sighs. "Maybe I should call Nancy."

"Not yet," Mom replies. "Gimme some time. I know where she's at. Pushing won't do nothin'."

Addison agrees to hold off on calling the scary sister before leaving to see a patient. Mom goes to talk to Dad so I hang out in her office.

Addison slumps in when she's done with her patient.

"Your mom still with your dad?"

"Yep."

"Dammit," she checks her watch, holding a file.

"She'll be back soon."

She considers this and then sits down beside me on the couch.

"So, hey. How are you doing? This has been a pretty crazy year."

I nod slowly. "Definitely top-shelf cray-cray. I think I've reached my limit for traumatic experiences."

"No kidding. Are you doing okay, though? Considering?"

"I'm okay. Just takes awhile, I guess."

"I know. When my mother died, I felt so...abnormal. We were never close, but it was so surreal to know she was-is, gone."

"Yeah. Sometimes I kind of expect Jamie to walk through the door, or that Big Daddy will still be there next time we visit."

It's quiet for a moment. "Any good stories to take the place of dead family members?" I ask.

She chuckles, shaking her head. "Well, my patient's baby has no matching DNA to her. Or her husband."

"Kidnapped? Black market baby?" I ask, wide-eyed.

"No, that's the thing. Naomi and I got them pregnant. Almost two years ago."

"Oh..."

We both stare off, thinking.

Mom walks in.

"Addison," she says. "Everything okay?" Both of our faces look confused. Addison tells her what she just told me, and then they go to Mom's desk and access the hospital files.

After a little while Mom points to the screen.

"Only other African-American girl born in the nursery that day."

Addison's face falls. "Oh, god."

"What? Do I need to call the lawyer? Are you about to get my hospital sued?"

"That baby. The Marshalls...that was her last egg. They spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on treatments."

"Okay..." Mom waits.

"The baby, Emily Abrams, the one I just saw...she has pediatric rheumatic heart disease. Ashley Marshall, the biological mother, can't have any more children."

"And her only living child is going to die before she's five years old," Mom finishes.

I stare at them. "So you have to haul two sets of parents in here, tell them they've been raising each other's baby, and tell one of them that her only child is going to die in four years?" I raise an eyebrow.

They look back sadly, and Addison drops her head into her hands.

"2011 fucking sucks," I mumble, getting up and leaving for the kitchen. And Mom doesn't even reprimand me for swearing.


	24. Chapter 24

The stop at the practice ends up taking hours because now Mom has to go through hospital records and find out how the babies got switched. Violet is brought in to be there when Addison tells each family what has happened.

Everyone is in the kitchen talking about it, and Sam and Dell and I sit silently, as we are not really related to the situation.

Tomorrow, two families will be changed forever, and one innocent baby has a terminal disease that's going to end her life before she's five.

Violet orders in Thai food. Around 8:30pm, Mom looks up from her laptop with Addison.

"Only one person was in the nursery that day, consistently. Never left," she says. Addison looks more closely at the screen.

"Oh my god."

"What?" Dad demands.

"Ben Marshall. The husband," Mom answers. And everyone is silent.

The next day Mom and Dad are due back at the practice for 4:00pm. Addison has arranged the time so both families will have more privacy, since the practice will technically be closed then. I come, too, and hang out in the kitchen. Normally I would have stayed home, but given the circumstances of this entire year, Mom's protectiveness has jumped excessively and she's been dragging me with her everywhere. This particular case is painfully fascinating, though, so I don't complain too much about the overprotectiveness.

I can see through Mom's blinds into Violet's office as she and Addison and Mom and Dad break the news to the Abrams' first. Jessica Abrams, the mother, is clearly so in love with her baby. The news shocks her, but I can see the husband look emotionless. I understand now what Dad meant when he said the husband seemed detached.

Violet calmly speaks to the Abrams', and afterwards they stay in Violet's office while Mom, Dad, Addison and Violet go to speak to the Marshalls. This will be more difficult, as they have to inform Ashley that her husband is the only person who was in the nursery all day that day-that it was he who switched her daughter with another baby.

All I can see are the facial expressions and gestures, but I don't have to hear the words to feel heartbroken for both families. Apparently the father, Ben, watched his newborn daughter have a seizure, and that's why he switched the ID bracelets. He said he just wanted his wife to have the healthy baby she'd always wanted so badly. I don't sit and stare into the office, I just glance over periodically. When I hear silence, I look over and see everyone looking sad as Ashley Marshall stares at her husband in disbelief before angrily, with tears streaming down her face, admonishing him.

Dad calls the cops to come for Ben Marshall, and then Addison and Violet explain to both women that legally, they must give the other woman her biological child back. My eyes have not stopped watering.

Mom comes into her office, clearly disturbed.

"They just have to give away the baby they've spent the last nine months raising as their own...," I say softly.

"I know, sugar," Mom whispers, and I see that her own eyes are swimming, too.

We watch as the two women, and Jesse Abrams, meet in Violet's office to exchange their babies. Jesse refuses to watch, and Dad stands with him, his hand on his shoulder. Addison leaves the room after the two women are each holding their biological baby. When she sees Mom's tears, she tries to laugh off her own.

"Y'know, when I first met you, if someone had told me I'd see Charlotte King cry, I'd have called bullshit."

"Oh, shut up, Montgomery," Mom gets up and goes to her desk.

"So now what?" I ask quietly.

"Well. They raise their own babies. Ashley Marshall will have to learn how to deal with Emily's disease, and Jessica Abrams gets a perfectly healthy baby girl," Addison says, watching as the women hold their babies. Jessica refuses to even look down at her child.

"And the dad?" I ask.

"Is on his way to jail. And his wife wants a divorce," Addison answers.

We stand in silence until Dad leaves Violet's office and comes into Mom's. He sits beside me and wraps his arms around me in silence.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," Addison says tiredly. We say goodnight and she leaves to go talk to Violet and the two families.

"Can this day just be over?" Dad sighs.

"Let's go home," Mom agrees.

As we leave she keeps an arm tightly around my shoulders, kissing my head as leave.

As August begins, so do preparations for my senior year. Along with trips for school supplies and clothes, Dad comes home one day with applications for Harvard, Yale, Columbia and Berkeley.

"She's going to Berkeley," Mom says seriously as she sees the applications.

"It doesn't hurt to have options," Dad replies. But Mom takes the other forms and walks away. She's been on edge lately.

"Senior-year jitters," Dad mumbles to me.

Mom and I go shopping one afternoon for more school stuff when she takes an unexpected turn on the way to the mall.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Baby, you need to try. You have your license, and you've only driven with it about three times. We need to more forward."

She looks at me, so I know there's no point arguing. She pulls up to a Toyota dealership and I begrudgingly follow her from the car.

We browse for only a few minutes before a man approaches us to ask what we're looking for.

"Just checking out a few ideas for a car for my daughter," Mom replies.

"I've got just the thing," he grins, and shows us to a huge 4Runner. "Lots of kids are choosing these right now."

I look at Mom and then back at the man. "I'm not really interested in adding to the chemical destruction of our planet," I reply. "If I get anything, it would be a Prius."

The man chuckles. "Your girl knows what she wants!"

Mom grimaces and raises her eyebrows, clearly agreeing with me that this guy is a dummy.

"Right over here, girls," he says enthusiastically, leading us to a starts to list off the highlights of the car.

"I'm not even sure if I want a car, and no offense, but you're not going to change my mind."

"Oh, come on. Imagine pulling up to school in this beautiful, environmentally friendly machine with your best friend beside you and everyone wishing they had one, too," he grins as only a salesman can.

"My best friend is dead. From crashing a 'beautiful machine' into someone else's on the freeway. The only thing 'beautiful' about this, is the irony," I reply shortly, spinning on my heel and walking away.

"Sorry," Mom says to the man, and I hear her start to follow me. "Kati..."

I keep walking, ignoring her.

"Katelyn Charlotte Freedman!"

Since she dealt out the full name, I spin around to face her in the parking lot.

"You cannot live under this cloud forever," she says firmly.

"And you can't force me out from underneath it, either," I retort.

I turn and finish walking to the car, getting in and almost slamming the door. After a second she gets in.

"Look," she turns to face me. "I won't shove, but I'll push. I don't want you to miss out on something because you're scared. I love you too much to do nothing here."

I glance at her, see her looking at me like she's hurting too, and look away.

She finally starts the car and we leave.

She drops the car conversation long enough to pick up some last minute school supplies, but when we get home and I go upstairs I hear her talking to Dad.

I'm not completely unreasonable. I know I have to conquer this fear. I just need more time. But I know Violet would tell me that sometimes you just have to rip off the Band-Aid. My head is too busy, and starting to drift back to Jamie, so I go downstairs and slip into the sitting room where the piano is. I need a long song, so I play Konstantine by Something Corporate. It's almost 10 minutes long, and I need the distraction.

Jamie loved this song, but it doesn't automatically make me think of her, because it was one of my favorite songs long before I introduced her to it. It just reminds me of a faceless person, going through the agony of lost love. Mom knows me all too well, knowing that I only play this song when I feel overwhelmed by the ten thousand things going through my head. As I finish the song, she slips onto the bench besides me.

"That bad?" she asks.

"Pretty close," I reply, still kind of mad at her.

"You wanna talk to me about it?"

"No," I reply, and start playing Turning Tables by Adele. She stays for a few bars but then kisses my head and leaves, giving me some time by myself.

My sadness, for Jamie and for Big Daddy, slowly turns into rage. In the middle of Rolling in the Deep I realize I'm crying, almost sobbing. I stop mid-song and slam both hands down onto the keys. I jump up and run through the room and out the front door, sprinting barefoot. The sun is setting and after a good 10 minutes I stop, breathless.

I recognize the house that's standing in front of me. It's Jamie's. Only it's not Jamie's house anymore at all. A stranger's car is parked in the driveway and the front yard has flowers and ridiculous little garden gnomes.

I just stand there, my chest rising and falling angrily, as tears continuously stream down my face.

I don't know how long I stand there, waiting for her to walk out the front door, but when I realize the sun is almost completely hidden behind the horizon, I turn and walk home.


	25. Chapter 25

I walk in the front door and go straight up to my room. I hear Mom follow me and when I know she's right behind me I let myself fall, because I know she'll catch me. She cradles me as I sob, deep, racking sobs, until my chest aches and my throat is dry. I don't know how long we stay on the floor. Eventually Dad comes in and wraps his arms around both of us. I don't even remember falling asleep, but I wake up in the middle of the night and Mom is asleep beside me in my bed, with one hand on my back.

"What did you feel? When you felt 'something break'?" Violet asks, repeating my words.

"Angry," I reply after a moment. "I was furious."

"At what? Or whom?"

I think, staring at the leg of the couch she's on. "Everything...everyone...Jamie...for dying. That's stupid of me, but I am. She left me. She's altered my entire life by hers ending...Big Daddy, because...I don't know. I just felt angry...and at my Mom, for trying to make me get a car. Even though I know she's right...I just-I don't know! Can't you just tell me what to do? Because I can't keep yo-yoing like this. I can feel okay, and then I'm not! I get so incredibly angry; angrier than I've ever felt in my entire life!"

"You know, honey, anger is a stage of grief. So, actually, your rage is progress."

"It doesn't feel like progress. It feels...overpowering. Overwhelming. Like I was about to just...explode! I wanted to scream and cry and run and...I don't know!"

"It's normal to feel that way. It's normal to feel scared of your anger, too."

"Nothing about this year feels 'normal', Violet," I reply.

"I know. You have had a truly heart-wrenching year. But the only thing you can control is you. And you're doing that. By talking, by playing music. By getting all of these powerful emotions out, you're helping things. It's okay to feel all of the emotions you're feeling."

I sigh, trying to feel less tense. But it doesn't work.

"I'm not used to feeling like that," I say.

"You are strong, Kate. Don't push too hard. Just take one thing at a time. Let yourself feel whatever emotions come up. It gets easier; you've seen that. Just be patient with yourself," she grips my arm.

I nod, my eyes burning with tears I hold back.

After talking to Violet I go to Mom's office and fall asleep on the couch.

Mom's stuck at the hospital because she was called after Amelia was brought in after falling off the counter at a bar, completely drunk. Her hand and arm were sliced open. When she gets back she looks exhausted. I don't want to add to all of the insanity going on lately, so when she asks how my session with Violet went, I say that it was fine, and I quickly change the subject to Amelia.

"She's...drowning. She won't admit that she needs help and until she does, nobody can help her. It's a vicious cycle," Mom replies.

I don't know what to say, but that's fine because she sits beside me on the couch and hugs me. We sit in silence until Dad comes to tell us he's done; we can go home.

Everyone is exhausted so we pick up dinner and go home, flopping on the couch and spending the rest of the night watching Modern Family.

School is only two weeks away. When I think about it-going and seeing everybody all at once, without Jamie-I feel like my stomach is full of butterflies.

Axel is having a party tonight. He's been bugging me about it, and even got Silas and Max to text me, too, asking me to come. Finally, I agree. I tell Mom, but add that the only way I'm going is if she drops me off and picks me up. She, of course, has no argument there. I'm nervous, but I'm trying to face my fears one at a time.

I haven't been to Axel's since the night of the accident. Mom was hesitant at first about the party, but she's also trying to push me forward, knowing full-well that I need the gentle shove. Still, I can tell she's tense about tonight. Nevertheless, she drives me to Axel's. Dad was called away to the hospital, but he kisses me before he leaves, telling me to have a great time.

When we pull up to Axel's, I exhale loudly.

"You're going to have a great time, baby," Mom smiles.

I nod, biting my lip.

"Okay," I say, after what seems like forever. "11:30, right?"

"I'll be here," she promises.

So I unbuckle and get out of the car.

"I love you," she says through the window.

"Love you, too," I reply, trying to smile.

I breathe deeply and head towards the house. Deja vu is so intense that I stop, taking a deep breath. I turn around and see Mom. She gives me an encouraging look so I turn back around, but instead of going inside, I head for the gate to the backyard instead.

I push open the gate and thankfully the first person I see, playing beersbie, is Axel. He sees me and points both arms upwards.

"Kati! My girl!" he yells. He rushes over as a few friends yell my name.

"'Bout time," he teases, hugging me.

"Fashionably late," I reply with a smile.

"Yeah, only a few months," he retorts, but with a smile.

I shove him and he puts his arm around me, leading me towards the beersbie poles.

"Doubles," he calls out to Silas, who I realize is the other player.

He smiles and waves, and I smile back.

"Come on, girl, let's show these lady-boys what's up," Axel says, handing me a can.

"I don't-" I start, but he gestures towards the can and I see that it's raspberry gingerale, my favorite.

"You think I don't know you, girl?"

Gratefully, I crack the can and tip it against his can of beer.

People come by to say hi as Axel and I play beersbie. After Axel and I beat Silas and Jesse, we go sit around the fire and chat with people I haven't seen in a long time. It's actually good to see everybody, but I can't stop thinking about Jamie. I keep expecting her to appear, and I refuse to go inside, because I know it will be more deja vu that I don't want to feel.

I twist Jamie's sweet sixteen ring on my finger absently, trying to focus on the people and the conversation. Axel saves me, seeing my discomfort, by touching my arm and gesturing me to follow him. I go with him to his garage where he brings out a box of fireworks. I laugh.

"Told you I was saving 'em," he grins.

"You waited all summer for fireworks?"

"Of course, bra. It's our thing," he shrugs, and hands me a lighter.

"Come on, let's put on a show," he raises his eyebrows quickly several times.

Axel's house backs onto a huge hill overlooking the city. We follow our usual path down the dirt trail between the sparse trees until we reach the familiar bare patch where we usually hang out. Aside from fireworks, we've had fires down here in a pit that we dug.

"Been awhile, huh?" Axel says, watching me look around.

I nod and after a moment he begins unpacking the fireworks. We always start small, so that if we hear cop cars coming or see their lights appear, we can light the bigger ones and take off.

He hands me several Roman candles.

"Ready?" He smiles so big it's contagious.

"Yeah," I reply, as if this is a stupid question.

We both light our first candles. I realize how much I've missed him, and the exhilaration of our firework parties. We light one after another until 10 empty candles lie on the ground. No cops yet.

We set up a row of five medium-sized cartons and light them all at once, laughing and watching the colorful explosions, wide-eyed.

"Cops," I say, hearing the siren in the distance.

Quickly, we line up the five big ones and light them as the cop car arrives up on the road above us. The shrieking and exploding fireworks cover up our laughter as we run. There's a spot to the right the completely obscures us if we lie down. Breathless and laughing, we lie on our backs and watch the fireworks continue to go off. The big ones last the longest and by the time they're over, we can hear the cops in the distance complain about 'crazy kids' and decide to go back to their car.

"They're long gone by now...pretty cool, show, though," one of them says as they climb the path back to their car.

This feeling-this breathless, light, careless feeling-makes me feel more alive than I've felt since Jamie. I feel almost guilty for laughing so hard, but I tell myself to be rational: Jamie would want me to laugh.

Axel and I stifle laughter until the car doors shut.

"Oh, man," Axel sighs. "I missed this."

"Me, too," I reply after a minute, staring at the sky.

We lay there for a few minutes.

"I'm glad you decided to come tonight, Kati," Axel says. "You're one of my best friends, bra. It's been so weird not seeing you...don't stay away so much, okay?"

He looks at me and I look back, feeling bad. "Okay," I promise.

He pulls out his bowl and takes a few puffs. He doesn't offer me any, and I don't ask. I tried it once, with Axel actually, and Jamie. I didn't like it much, and he's never tried to pressure me or make fun of me for it.

"We should head back up and get in another game before your hot mom shows up," he says, and laughs when I swing my arm out and clip him in the shoulder.

Back at the party, everyone applauds the firework show. As expected, Axel and I beat Silas and Jesse at beersbie again. We do a short victory dance and I still feel so...normal. I can't stop thinking of Jamie, and that makes me refuse to enter the house. But the thought of her has stopped making my heart stutter. Now it makes me sad, but not to the point of feeling like I'll never be able to stand on my own again.

By the time Mom texts me that she's out front, I'm kind of relieved. I say goodbye to a few people, not wanting to make a noticeable exit. Silas hugs me and tells me it was great to see me, and asks if I want to go do something before school starts. I agree and then Axel walks me out the gate from the backyard and we pass a girl throwing up in the bushes.

Before I walk away Axel hugs me.

"It'll keep getting easier," he says quietly. "Promise. Just don't make yourself a ghost, too."

I smile as best I can, forcing my eyes to contain their tears.

"Much love, girl," he holds out his fist and I bump it with my own, smiling before leaving.

I climb into the car with Mom, who smiles.

"Did you have fun?"

I nod, giving her a little smile. "Mostly."

She squeezes my knee. "It's an important step, baby girl."

As we drive home I start a song in my head. It just comes into my head and I'm so focused that I don't hear Mom.

"Sugar?"

"Sorry?"

"Colbert Report? When we get home?"

"Oh. Sure," I reply.

At home I change into sweatpants and grab a notebook before joining Mom on the couch.

"New song?" she asks.

"Mmhmm," I reply absently. I keep looking up at the TV, but I'm not actually watching-just trying to think.

I end up getting my guitar and choosing the right chord before realizing that I want an old-school organ sound to add to the guitar. I don't say anything when I go upstairs but Mom is used to it when I'm in the middle of writing something.

I plug my keyboard into my Mac and starting working. When Mom comes to kiss me goodnight it's almost 2:00am.

"Don't stay up too late, baby," she says. I nod but keep working anyway. I don't go to sleep until I'm satisfied, and when I look at the clock it's 4:15am.

Surprisingly, I wake up around 10:00 and I'm not even tired. I brush my teeth and grab my guitar, tweaking the new song. Mom comes up when I'm almost done.

"You planning on eating today, Ludwig?"

"I think I'm finished," I reply, clicking to save the organ part on GarageBand. "Do you wanna hear it?" I ask, shy as always, but Mom (and Dad) is the only person I feel less shy about playing for.

"Of course I do," Mom immediately sits down on my bed beside Nigel.

"It's a bit different from other stuff I've written. Or even sung," I say.

"I'm sure it's amazing, sugar."

I strap on my guitar and click the computer to start the organ portion.

The song has a southern, folksy feel. I've jumbled Jamie and Big Daddy and Amelia and the darkness of my anger all into one song. I don't look up while I play, but when I do, afterwards, Mom has tears in her eyes.

"Oh, baby, it's beautiful." She gets up and hugs me.

"Play it again," she says.

"Play what?" Dad asks, coming in and sitting beside Mom with a mug of coffee. He's still dressed, having just walked in from being on-call at the hospital.

"New song. It's incredible," Mom replies as he kisses her cheek.  
>"I wanna hear," he says.<br>I still get nervous, even singing in front of them, but I do it anyway. The looks on their faces is motivation enough.


	26. Chapter 26

I go downstairs and find Mom on the couch with a mug of tea and a stack of papers with St. Ambrose logos on them.

"Okay," I say, standing near the couch. She looks up. "I like the Prius. I will not drive an SUV, or a Range Rover, or a truck. And it can't be black. Or blue. Or have leather interior."

All of those things are too painful to have around me.

She stares at me, surprised.

"Mom," I say, eyebrows raised and hands upturned.

"Oh!" she jumps up, understanding me.

I think all three of us were expecting me to remain a vehicular passenger forever. But I feel like I need to shove myself forward a little.

We get into Mom's car.

"This is so great, baby. I'm proud of you."

I nod, rubbing my lips together and trying to ease my nerves. She talks about something Seth Meyers said on Weekend Update and I try to pay attention, but I feel like I have ADD. I can't focus on her words.

We pull into the same dealership and when we walk in, a voice behind us greets us. We turn and see the guy I almost yelled at before.

"Oh," he looks taken aback. "Hello."

"Don't worry, I won't lose it on you again," I sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm...I dunno. Sorry. I was rude to you before."

"Oh...that's okay. You have every right to be-"

"Can I see a Prius, please?" I blurt out, my nervousness making me impatient. I also don't want him looking at me with that pitiful look in his eyes. He glances at Mom, who just gives him a look that says, 'you heard her'.

"Of course," he agrees, and leads us towards the showroom model. He talks about the car and I stand beside the driver's-side door, running a finger across the handle. I open the door. I hear the guy's voice slow down, but Mom distracts him from watching me by asking questions.

I don't get in, I just stare inside the car. At the driver's seat, the steering wheel, the pedals. The whole, flawless windshield...I breathe and tell myself that I am okay, moving forward is good and necessary, and that I used to really like driving. I tell myself all of the things Violet tells me and wants me to cement inside my head.

I hear Mom talk but I don't hear the words, just the cadence of voices. I stop staring and reach out, touching the fabric of the driver's seat. Soft and grey, nothing like the leather in Jamie's car.

I finger the lock and window buttons on the door. I realize I've spent about 15 minutes standing outside of a car and staring inside it, and that the rest of the people in the dealership probably think I'm Rain Man. Or girl, rather.

I feel like this is like jumping off cliffs in Hawaii, into the perfect water below. Eventually I just had to stop thinking and jump.

I inhale...exhale...and get in. I don't close the door, I just sit with one leg hanging outside the car. Mom breaks off mid-sentence, and then continues talking, discussing extra features of the car.

I breathe and observe everything inside the car. The steering wheel is thicker than I expected. Comfortable to grip. The seat is comfortable, and this model has a little screen where the stereo usually is. The windows are tinted, there's a place to plug in my iPod. I make myself focus on all of the things I like about the car.

I look into the big back seat and actually feel not terrible about being in the driver's seat; imagining myself driving. I don't feel like running out of the dealership, or that I'm going to explode.

Mom appears at the driver's-side door.

"How you doin', sugar?"

I nod, hooking a finger around the steering wheel. "I like it..."

"You wanna test drive it?"

"No," I shake my head. "I drove Aunt Celia's last year. I know what it's like."

"Okay," Mom nods. "So how about we go pick out a color then?"

I nod and get out of the car. She hooks an arm around me as we follow Adam, the salesman, to his office.

"I'm so proud of you, darlin'," she kisses my temple. I smile as we reach the office where Adam gestures to two chairs.

"So, what did you think?"

"I love it," I nod.

"Should we have a look at some colors and whatnot?"

I nod and he pulls out a booklet about the Prius. He goes over some features and Mom goes into business mode.

"What makes it better than any other hybrid," she asks, coming across as nonchalant as she flips through a booklet.

Neither I nor Mom has expressed any interest in another car, but I know she's just seeing what kind of deals he'll offer. He goes into a spiel about Toyotas.

"Plus, as an added feature, I'll throw in free oil changes. Indefinitely. And window tinting, free of charge."

Mom nods thoughtfully.

"We'll need the extended care package," she orders. "Power locks and windows...and I want that technology package, but none of that leather. I want fabric, just like that one out there."

Adam feverishly jots down everything she says. I secretly love watching people react to Mom's demeanor. I think it's hilarious that they are terrified of her.

"Did you decide on a color, sugar?"

"I like the blue," I reply. "Or the silver. What do you think?"

"They're both pretty, baby, but she's your car."

I look at the pictures in front of me. "The blue," I decide.

Adam writes it down.

"Alright. Now are you going to be financing your vehicle?"

"Good lord, no," Mom replies, frowning like this is a silly question. "I'll pay cash."

Adam blinks. "Of course," he nods. He types some stuff into his computer. "We can have your vehicle here by next week. How does Thursday work for you?" he asks.

"Thursday's perfect," Mom nods, and Adam excuses himself to get some forms.

"I like the blue better, too," Mom smiles.

I smile, but I'm nervous that this is actually happening.

"You're doing great, baby girl," she says, looking me in the eye and squeezing my hand. I relax a bit and nod, exhaling.

Adam returns and Mom fills out some forms.

"Alright," he smiles. "We'll see you next Thursday."

He reaches his hand out and shakes both of ours. He walks us to the door and holds it open for us, smiling as we leave.

"First-time car owner," Mom sings, squeezing my arm.

"Not quite," I reply, laughing a bit at her.

We get in the car and head home.

I feel as though I've conquered something. Plus Mom looks so happy and proud, it's hard not to feel a bit better.

When we get home Dad is on the couch with chocolate milk and a sandwich.

"Hey! Where did my gorgeous girls get to?" he kisses Mom, who leans down to him. I take off my jacket and join him on the couch.

"Guess," Mom smiles, going to the kitchen and draping her jacket over a chair. Dad kisses my forehead, and looks at me.

"That's an interesting combo," I say, drinking his chocolate milk.

"Ham and Monterey?" he looks shocked.

"Ham, Monterey and chocolate," I reply with a laugh.

Mom sits down beside Dad. He grins and bites his sandwich.

"So really? Where were you?" he looks at me expectantly.

"We...were at the Toyota dealership," I answer.

Dad looks at Mom, who nods, and then he looks back at me.

"And?"

"And...starfish, do not have brains," I reply seriously.

"Come on," he laughs.

"And I chose a car."

"Honey, that's great. I'm so proud of you," he smiles, cupping my head in his hand and kissing my forehead.

I shrug, but I feel proud, too.

"So what are you thinking? Still the Prius?"

"Not thinking," Mom replies. "Already bought. 2012 edition." She smiles and Dad turns back to me.

"Oh my god," his valley-girl voice comes out. "You are going to look, like, so fresh in that car. And it's totally, like, friendly for the earth."

I stare at him, straight-faced and shaking my head. But I can't hold it for long, because he's such a dork, so I toss a couch pillow at him.

"We pick it up Thursday," Mom laughs, stealing a pickle from Dad's plate.

"Alright," he states, raising his hands. "We have to go celebrate." He looks at me seriously. "Freedman Family PB session. Right now."

"Yeah?" I smile. I haven't gone paintballing in weeks.

"Oh yeah. Even Mom."

I look at Mom, who looks dubious. She plays, but not as often as we do, and she doesn't love it like we do, either.

"Oh, alright," she gives in. "I'll play. But ya'll better play nice. Last time I had a bruise on my ass for weeks."

She gets up and starts for her bedroom to get changed.

"Ha," Dad chuckles, remembering. "That's true. She did."

He's smiling, so I frown at him in disgust.

"Stop it," I say. He looks at me. "Stop thinking about Mom's butt in front of me."

I get up and go upstairs to change, as he laughs, claps and jumps up from the couch behind me.

"Alright! Team Freedman! Woo!" he yells.


	27. Chapter 27

When we get to the field, I notice Silas' car in the parking lot. We see him nearby with Axel.

Axel comes over and bro-hugs Dad. He holds his fist out to me and I bump it.

"What up, girl?"

"Must play," I reply, implying that it's been too long.

"Dr. Freedman," he says, a little surprised. He smiles and holds out his fist, and she smiles, amused, and bumps it.

"Axel," she nods.

"Haven't seen you on the pitch in awhile. I gotta say, it's totally hot."

"Ew," I frown at him, as Mom pulls his wool hat down over his face and shakes her head at him, amused.

Dad unloads our gear.

"Team of five?" a guy asks us.

"Hells yeah, bro. We're takin' the Freedmans," Axel replies.

"Field three in 10," the guys says.

We suit up and hit the field. Mom does her best; we play three rounds and she's out first for two of them, but she puts up a good fight. And she might actually be better at yelling from the sidelines, anyways. Scary Mom comes in handy for paintballing.

Afterwards, we sit, exhausted, in the back of Dad's SUV, with the hatchback up.

"Well, boys," Dad sighs. "This guy needs food. How about you some pizza?"

"Totally," Silas replies, so quickly that Mom eyes him. "Thanks, Dr. Freedman."

"Pete and Violet are coming over, tonight. And Lucas," Mom reminds Dad.

"The more the merrier." He claps his hands once and hops up.

"Hey, Kati, do you wanna ride with us?" Silas asks. Silas drives a Range Rover. It's the exact same year as Jamie's, but it's dark grey.

"Oh, um..." I start, but Axel saves me.

"We have all of our gear, bro," he says, slapping Silas' shoulder. We all know there is more than enough room for about three more people, and Silas realizes his mistake, looking sorry as he clues in. Axel nudges him and I turn to get into Dad's car as they walk towards the car.

We hang out by the pool while Dad calls for pizza and Mom goes to shower all the paint off.

I decide to let it slide, leaving my paint-spattered hair in its messy knot and ignoring the streaks of color across my arms, face and neck.

Pete and Violet arrive soon after and Lucas, their three-year-old, toddles over to me where the three of us are sitting by the pool, dangling our legs in the water. He is the cutest little guy and loves to hang out with me. Probably because I spend hours playing dinosaurs, building forts and watching Finding Nemo with him.

"Oh, no way. I haven't seen this little brother since he was just gettin' on his feet," Axel says as Lucas sits on my lap.

"He's an old pro at walking now," I say, taking off Lucas' shoes and socks so he can dip his feet in the water.

"He's awesome," Silas laughs, as Lucas clutches two dinosaurs tightly. He has three little brothers at home and loves kids.

Lucas tosses his dinosaurs into the water, where they sink.

"Wim," he points at the water.

"Yep. Your dinosaurs are now having a nice swim," I agree. He leans forward to peer into the water.

"Uh oh," he says, so seriously that I laugh.

"Oh no, bro. You want me to go get your dinosaurs?" Axel asks. Lucas nods and mumbles a version of 'please' that sounds more like 'peas', so Axel jumps up and takes off his shirt, tossing it onto a chair.

"Okay, but that means I'll have to jump in. Should I jump in?"

Lucas smiles and nods, so Axel takes two huge steps and flips into the water. Lucas giggles as he surfaces, dinosaurs in hand.

"Tank you," he says shyly.

"No problem, little man," he replies, and then jumps up in the water and hooks his arm around Silas' neck, who is sitting beside me. He drags Silas into the water. Lucas giggles when they resurface, and then throws his dinosaurs in again.

"Oh, I see how it is," Silas says, nodding. "Should we go get the dinosaurs?"

Lucas nods, so Silas dives down and retrieves the toys again. This time Lucas drops them on the ground beside us and gets up, turning to me and pulling at his shirt.

"I wim?" he asks.

"Ask mommy and daddy, first," I say. He turns and calls out to Pete.

"Okay, buddy, but you stay right with Kati, okay?" Pete replies.

Lucas turns back to me and I help him out of his t-shirt. He tries to pull my hand.

"Oh, I'm swimming now, too?" I ask. He nods. "Ah, okay."

I'm wearing shorts and t-shirt, but I pick him up and slide into the water, anyway.

Mom, Dad, Pete and Violet sit around the patio table talking, and I hear my name and the Prius mentioned. When I glance over, Mom and Violet are looking at me, smiling. I turn back to Axel and Silas, who start playing airplace with Lucas, holding him above the water and fake dropping him so he giggles.

The pizza arrives so we get out and wrap up in the towels Mom brought out. Violet wraps Lucas in a towel and he settles into Pete's lap.

Violet hugs me, wordlessly, and smiles. I return the smile.

Lucas falls asleep soon after dinner, so Axel, Silas and I go inside to play Wii.

"Guitar Hero," Silas suggests.

"Hell, no, man," Axel shakes his head. "I at least need a _chance _at winning. Kati's goes all 'beautiful mind' with music. No one stands a chance."

"Mario?" I say.

"Party?"

"No, like Super Mario. With the levels and the Yoshis and stuff."

"Alright, old school. Bring it, Freedman," Axel agrees.

I stare at him. "It's a team game, bonehead."

"Oh," he says. "Well, alright. I'm-a still play."

We play like we're six again, sitting on the carpet near the TV, cross-legged and laughing.

After a while Axel checks his phone.

"Aight, I gotta roll. Boys are coming over for some brew. You wanna come chill?"

I shake my head. "Nah, I'm beat."

I walk them to the door and knock Axel's outstretched fist.

"Talk to you soon, girl. Let's go ballin' before school starts," he says.

"Deal."

Silas gives me a hug. "Thanks," he smiles. "Today was really fun."

I nod and smile in return, and suddenly he's leaning forward and he kisses me.

A simple, soft kiss.

He looks at me and smiles, exhaling, and then follows Axel.

"Aw, shit, son! You didn't!" Axel teases.

I smile, shaking my head, and close the door.

I wander upstairs and take a shower, washing off all the paint. I find some comfy sweatpants and shirt and go back downstairs, running into Violet, with Lucas beside her, holding her hand.

"Hey," she smiles.

"Hey," I reply.

"Lucas was looking for you."

Lucas sleepily rubs his eyes, and I see that Violet has changed him into pajamas.

"Well, I was looking for you," I bend down. "I need someone to watch Nemo with Nigel and me. Do you know of anyone who likes Nemo?"

Smiling, Lucas shyly raises his hand. "Me."

"Well that's just perfect," I smile, picking him up. "I'll hang out with him."

She smiles and heads back outside so I settle Lucas and I onto the couch beside a sleeping Nigel, and surround us with blankets.

I wake up when it's dark out and Mom is gently pushing my hair from my face and saying my name.

"Hey, baby. Why don't you go upstairs to bed?"

"Where's Lucas?"

"They left about 20 minutes ago. Daddy and I just cleaned up and we're going to bed."

I sit up, groggy and rub my eye.

"Oh." I get up, and Nigel lazily follows.

"Night, sugar," Mom kisses my cheek.


	28. Chapter 28

School starts next Monday, and I get my car on the Thursday before, which is in three days. Both of these things are making me feel sick to my stomach.

Mom and I go shopping on Tuesday. We wander around the mall, stopping in our favorite stores and then stop for lunch at one of our favorite cafes with a roof-top patio. We get a table and chat about my classes and applying to Berkeley for early acceptance. Mom talks about work a bit, a depressing story about a little boy who was brought in with a broken arm and they found bruises all over his body.

"Poor child _was _a bruise."

"Did his parents do it?"

"Yeah. Worthless father was a drunk. Came in half-snapped," Mom shakes her head.

We're quiet for a moment.

"So, I was thinking. Should we do tropical or Aspen this year?" she asks, referring to winter break.

"Well...we did tropical last year," I reply.

"Oh, right. So Aspen then."

She smiles, but the reminder of the trip made my chest flutter. I swallow, trying to look normal. Last winter break we went to Hawaii. And Jamie came with us.

"Oh, sugar," Mom says, reaching over and wiping away tears I didn't realize were falling. "I'm sorry. Why don't we talk about this later?"

I shake my head, frustrated with myself, and she reaches over and cups my cheek in her hand. "I'm fine. Just overly emotional or something," I mutter, trying to dismiss this.

"Everything's gonna be okay, baby. I know it's hard."

I take a deep breath and pull myself together.

"There's two many Firsts coming up," I say, meaning doing something or seeing something, without Jamie, for the first time.

"I know," she says quietly. She looks at me, trying to give me an encouraging look.

"Alright, let's move," I sigh.

We gather our stuff and head off to do some more shopping.

WE stop in at Abercrombie's kid store, because they have these leggings there that fit better than any pair of their teen sizes and I love them.

"Can I help you?" a girl asks. She looks to be in her mid-20s and she looks completely unimpressed with her life.

"Yeah, can I please get a grey pair of these in medium?" I ask, holding up the stares at me.

"Are they for you?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Y'know, this store is for _children_," she say rudely, as though I'm the stupidest person she's ever encountered. "You should go to the other store."

"Don't tell me how to live my life," I reply, straight-faced.

She rolls her eyes and snaps the leggings from my hands before going into the back to find the right pair.

"Wow. She is so pleasant," I smile fakely at Mom, who's glaring towards where the girl disappeared.

"Right surly," she agrees.

The girl returns and holds out the pants.

"Thanks so much, Lindsay," I say, because I noticed her name tag before. "You have just been so helpful."

She maintains her dirty look as we walk away, towards the manager running the till.

He asks if anyone helped us out today.

"Oh, yeah. The wildly pleasant Lindsay was our tour guide," Mom replies, nodding towards the girl, who is now checking herself out in a mirror.

"Was she rude to you?" he asks, looking as though he already knows the answer.

"Well," I say slowly. "Customer service might not be her forte."

He rolls his eyes. "I am so sorry. She is on her last legs. The store owner's daughter. Nepotism at work." He looks disgusted. "You girls have a fantastic day," he manages pleasantly before heading over to the girl, as we leave.

"If it fits, and I like it, I'm wearing it," I state. "Regardless of where it comes from."

"As you should, sugar. That girl is about as happy as a dead pig in the sunshine. Just takin' it out on everyone else."

I laugh quietly at her ability to come up with a hilarious Southern saying. We head towards Maggie's, the best shoe store, in my opinion, in all of LA.

"My entire shopping trip has been leading up to this moment," I say, looking in at all of the shoes and boots.

"Oh, lord," Mom rolls her eyes, tugging my hand. "I've created a monster."

There's a man who works at Maggie's named Milo, and he is one of the greatest people I've ever met. He married his boyfriend last summer and is saving up to take an extended honeymoon, traveling around Europe. And he loves shoes as much as Mom and I do.

"Hello beautiful Freedman women," we hear the unforgettable sing-song voice, and look over to see Milo coming towards us. He kisses both of our cheeks. "I was wondering when I'd see you two."

He takes our bags and shoves them under a nearby bench, gently pushes us to sit down.

"So? What are we looking for today?" he asks, clasping his hands eagerly.

"I need some heels, nothin' too high-you know what I like-and nothing strappy or ridiculous," Mom replies, smiling at Milo. He nods seriously.

"And for you, Miss Kati?" he smiles.

"I...would like a pair of Toms. Grey. Maybe black. Actually, no. Not black. Um, some ballet flats, I'm open to colors. And maybe a pair of boots. Grey or black leather, with a low-heel. I don't want a pair of boots made by someone who hates feet."

He rolls his eyes understandingly. "Why some women put themselves through painful footwear, I will never know. Okay! I'll be back in a snap!"

We sit and admire the shoes around us.

"Oh, darlin', look at those, below the hideous gold ones," Mom points out, and I see the bright purple flats she means.

"Ooo," I breathe quietly, stretching my neck to see.

Milo brings a stack of boxes, sets them in front of Mom, then brings another stack and sets them in front of me.

"Hey, Milo," I say as he takes the top box from my stack. "What about those purple flats?"

He grins and holds out the box he just opened, which contains the shoes. "Come on, gorgeous, like I don't know exactly what you love."

I smile and try on the vibrant shoe.

"I think that's a yes," Mom says, watching me.

I smile at her and nod.

"Alright. One for the Love pile," Milo says, setting the box aside.

He pulls out shoe after shoe, showing each of us what he's brought out. We go a little crazy and leave with six shoeboxes.

"Well. I think we've set a record," Mom says after we leave, as we wait for the elevator. We both look down at our bags.

"Are we telling Dad about this?" I ask, making a face.

"We deserve shopping," she replies, as though it would be silly to think otherwise.

"I need the couch," I say after we get off the elevator and head for the car.

"Agreed," Mom sighs. Her phone rings.

"Daddy's picking up Thai. Addison and Sam are coming over," she says after her conversation.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot that was today."

"Me too."

We manage to get all of our bags into the car. On the way home we stop at Goodwill and donate three large bags of clothes that we'd gathered the night before during a serious closet-cleanse.

By the time we get home, a small fiesta has formed. Aside from Addison and Sam, there's Pete, Violet, Sheldon and Dell over as well. Everyone calls out as we walk in. We smile and return greetings until Dad comes to the entryway and stops, seeing our bags.

"I'm never retiring, am I," he states.

"Well you're gonna look pretty damn good in the meantime," Mom replies, holding out the jacket that she picked up for him, knowing he'd liked it the last time he saw it.

"Redeemed," he bows to us.

I laugh and he kisses each of us.

"What's going on?" Mom asks.

"Are there more bags?" Dad asks, his hands up, as though he'd fight them off if there were.

We smile in reply and he shakes his head and goes to get the remaining bags from the car.

Mom looks at Violet, puzzled.

"Everything's fine," Violet says. "Come sit."

Mom and I look at each other, confused. Dad bursts through the front door with the rest of the bags.

"Jesus, did you leave anything for the greater Los Angeles area?" he gasps.

"No," Mom replies, turning back to Violet seriously.

"It's Amelia," Addison answers. "We think it may be time to...do something. Amelia needs rehab. End of story."

Everyone is quiet, even Lucas, who plays quietly in Dell's lap.

"Alright. When?" Mom asks, all business.

"As soon as she's back," Sam replies.

"Back?" Mom looks at him.

"No one's seen her in over a week. I know she's been at the house, but I haven't spoken to her or anything. Just been maneuvering my way through empty tequila bottles and dried out lime slices," Addison provides, looks pissed.

Mom has always felt a little responsible for Amelia, because they shared a similar addiction, and always went to meetings together.

"Where? Where should we do it?" Violet asks.

After a moment Mom suggests the office.

"She'll need to come in. We call her, tell her she has an urgent patient, but we cancel all appointments that day. Bring in an interventionist."

Everyone ponders this.

"I think it's our best shot," Dad says after a moment.

I go and sit beside Dell at the table, sighing. Poor Amelia.

"Okay. So who can get the interventionist?" Sheldon asks.

"I will. Addison, you text her. Tell her Monday. We need her Monday," Mom orders.

Addison nods, pulling out her phone and texting.

The tense atmosphere starts to loosen up a bit after the topic of conversation starts to wander away from Amelia, and the food arrives.

"Alright, for the sake of Lucas, and Kati, and all of our sanity, let's drop this conversation for now and talk about something a little more upbeat and...uplifting," Dad says.

"Like occupying Wall Street?" I suggest drily.

Nothing like some dry, sarcastic humor to loosen up this group. Dinner conversation varies around the table. Mom, Dad, Pete, Sheldon and Sam are on one side of the table laughing about something, while Dell, Addison, Violet and I are talking about one of Addison's patients and a first-time pap appointment.

"God. That is one First that no one wants to relive," Violet shakes her head, chuckling.

"I have a feeling I may have some issues with that part of my education," I say, referring the gynecology.

"Hey, it's not that bad. It's helping women give birth, which is the most beautiful thing in the world," Dell defends.

"Nothing about a vagina is beautiful," I make a face. Addison laughs.

"Yeah, you're in a different...vortex. Of midwive...ery," she frowns, contemplating her word.

"It's midwifery," Dell replies, trying to look indignant, but he ends up chuckling anyways at Addison's face.

"That should not be a word," Violet thinks out loud.

"Neither should 'moist'," I reply, making a face and shuddering at the sound of the word.

"Moist, huh," Dell says, thoughtfully, drinking his beer. "Moooiiiissstt."

"I will take your daughter to get her nose pierced," I threaten, regarding Betsey, who's at a sleepover tonight.

Dell feigns shock. "You wouldn't."

"I would. Maybe her forehead, too. Or whatever that one is called where they put a bar through the bridge of your nose."

"That's disgusting," Addison laughs, as we move to the living room and the comfortable couches.

"Disgusting but true," Violet points out as we sit down.

Dell picks up a magazine and flips through it absent-mindedly.

"Betsey is definitely not getting any holes in her face," he says.

"I'm sure that's what Travis Barker's parents said, too, but hey," I say, my palms towards the ceiling.

Violet points at the magazine Dell's flipping through. "What is that?" she frowns, pointing at a picture of a celebrity in Uggs, a hoodie and the shortest shorts possible.

"Some kind of seasonally challenged hussy," I reply, as we all crane our necks to look.

"Fame is something I would never wish upon anyone. Especially my own daughter," Dell shakes his head. "It's so messed up."

"What, you don't want her to spiral into a coke-hazed stupor and start posing for Playboy when she realizes she's broke and no one wants to hire her anymore? What a startling discovery," I say.

Dell reaches over and pinches my ribs, making me shriek.

"You are so incredibly twisted!" he teases me. "In the best way." He finishes, smiling.

"Yes. I have high hopes for this grasshopper," Addison says, nodding slowly as Violet and Dell look at her like she's ridiculous. "No?" She asks, seeing their faces.

"Definitely not," Violet replies, referring to her impression.


	29. Chapter 29

Thursday comes all too soon.

Today, I have to drive. Alone. I'm nervous and I'm scared, but part of me is excited. Or that's just the nerves. I've been preparing myself for this hurdle. I'm tired of feeling as though I have an obstacle to overcome, even though I know that many more await. Still, this is one that I want to banish.

Mom pokes her head in as I'm lying in bed with Nigel.

"Morning, sugar," she smiles. "Big day."

"Yeah," I reply quietly.

"Come have some breakfast," she says.

So I drag myself out of bed and Nigel follows me downstairs.

"Are you nervous? About Monday?" I ask, before she can make the conversation about me.

"I'm worried about her," Mom replies, putting dishes in the dishwasher. "Not nervous. I just hope she comes around sooner, rather than later."

"Me too," I agree, picking at the eggs she's put in front of me. "Did you know? When you were, y'know...at rock bottom?"

"Part of me did," Mom nods thoughtfully. "But drugs are a powerful thing, baby girl. They change how you think, and feel, and react...changes who you are."

We're quiet for a moment and then Mom looks at me.

"Baby, you know you can talk to me, right?" About..._anything_."

"Of course," I reply.

"And heaven forbid you find yourself in a...dangerous, place...I mean emotionally..."

"Mom," I tilt my head. "Who else would I ever go to first?"

She comes over and kisses my head. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I reply.

"You better get ready," she changes the subject, noticing the clock. "I told that fella we'd be by around 10:00."

I dump the rest of my eggs into Nigel's dish and head upstairs to get dressed.

An hour later we're pulling into the dealership. My heart's beating faster, out of fear and excitement.

"Whenever you're ready," Mom says, turning off the car. I only let myself stall for a moment, long enough for my head to remind me that I'm okay. Jamie's been gone for over six months. It seems so hard to believe. I miss her so much that it physically hurts sometimes. But I'm trying to ask myself what she would say if she saw me, struggling and sometimes barely treading water. She would hate it. And she would straight-forwardly tell me to stop it, get up and go do something. She would have been so excited for me, getting my first car.

"I'm ready," I say, and get out of the car. We go inside where Adam is waiting.

"Hi, ladies. How are you today?"

"Fantastic," I grin slightly. He can't tell whether I'm being sarcastic or not.

"We're just fine," Mom says, smiling, her arm around nods.

"So, all the paperwork is signed so really, I just need your plates."

Mom hands him the license plates and insurance forms, and Adam leads us outside to the shiny blue car.

He attaches the plates as I stand beside Mom and stare at the car.

_It won't happen again...I'm fine...I'm a good driver...I can overcome this..._All of these thoughts play through my head on repeat.

Then Adam is in front of me holding out the keys. After a moment I reach out and he places the keys in my hand.

"Congratulations, Kate," he grins.

"Thank you," I look at him, smiling a little.

Adam shakes Mom's hand and gives her his card, in case we need anything, and then shakes mine and goes inside.

Mom is quiet beside me, giving me time. I inhale and exhale deeply. I look at her and she smiles.

"I'm okay," I say, half-question, half-statement.

"You're okay," Mom repeats, nodding.

I nod and then open the door and slowly get in the car, willing my heart to slow down, just a little.

"I'm going to be right behind you," Mom says, leaning into the car. My car.

I nod and look up at her. She reaches into her purse and hands me a CD.

"I made it for you," she says.

I smile. "You made me a CD?"

"What?" She looks defiant. "I can burn CDs!

""Thanks, Mom," I laugh. She leans in and kisses my forehead.

"You're welcome, darlin'," she smiles. "Right behind you."

She looks at me meaningfully and I nod so she knows I'm okay, and she closes the car door.

I set my bag on the passenger seat and take a breath before putting the key in the ignition and starting the car. It's so quiet-blissfully unlike Jamie's Range Rover. I slip Mom's CD into the CD player. When the song starts, I laugh and look up to see Mom in her car in front of me, smiling. Groove is in the Heart by Deelite. She used to use this song to cheer me up when I was little, and make me dance with her around the living room until I wasn't sad anymore. It won't have quite the same effect now, but the gesture means everything.

I feel more comfortable, too, with the music. I press the brake while I shift into drive. Slowly, I let off the brake and finally, shutting up the scared girl inside of me, I press the gas pedal and leave the dealership.

I focus on driving. Shoulder-check, brake, gas pedal. I refuse to think of the night with Jamie, and instead listen to the music and try to relax. I realize as I get farther from the dealership that I've actually missed driving. I find the sunroof button while I'm waiting at a red light and settle even more comfortably into the seat. I glance back periodically to make sure Mom is right behind me.

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the driveway. I smile as I park and throw off my seatbelt, jumping out of the car. Mom is already out of her car, smiling huge and looking so happy. Her eyes look a little glassy as I run into her arms and she squeezes me tightly.

I feel like I got another little piece of me back. Dad pulls into the driveway as Mom stands in front of me, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear and we talk about the drive. He jumps out of his car and hurries over, a huge smile on his face.

"You did it! I knew it! I knew you were going to nail this!" He grabs me and lifts me off the ground, spinning us in a circle."I'm sorry I couldn't be there," he says when he sets me down.

"It's okay," I shake my head.

He holds my face in his hands and kisses my forehead. "I am so, so proud of you."

"Thanks," I smile.

"So," he says, after a moment. "Let's see her!"

"Him," I correct him. He and Mom look at me. "Al Gore," I say, as though this should be blatantly obvious.

We laugh as we head over and check out more of my car. Dad helps me hook up the GPS and set up bluetooth so everything is ready and personalized for me.

He wants a ride, and Mom agrees with him and hops into the passenger seat. Dad hops into the back, and I get in and take them for the first drive.

We see a Petco and stop in so I can buy a hammock for the backseat, for Nigel. When we leave, Dad decides we need to celebrate, so we go to Joey's, our favorite restaurant, and have a celebratory dinner.


	30. Chapter 30

The weekend passes slowly and it's relaxing, spent reading, going to yoga with Mom, and hanging out with Max, Jenelle, Megan, Axel and Silas. They come over on Saturday afternoon and we hang out by the pool. Dad is at work and Mom's working from home on paperwork. We order pizza and listen to music, watching the boys do flips off the cliff-slide.

I feel amazingly normal. Not completely normal, but as normal as I can feel, now that so much of my life has been changed. I worry about Monday, knowing it will be difficult.

Around 11:00 everyone starts heading out. Axel and Silas are the last leave. Axel gives his signature fist bump and says he'll meet Silas at the car. Suspiciously I turn and look at Silas.

"You excited about Monday?" he asks, slightly nervous.

"You know me," I smile. "Pretty huge nerd."

"I wouldn't want you any other way," he says quietly, and he leans forward, one hand near my jaw, and kisses me.

I've never kissed anyone like this before. I feel fluttery and Silas is so gentle, but firm, in the way he holds my face to his.

"Hey!" We break apart and see Dad in front of us, just outside the front door on the grass. He must have just gotten home. Sure enough, I see Axel laughing his ass off from the front seat of his car.

Dad is staring at Silas like he wants to destroy him. I've never seen him look like this. A mixture of shock, anger and fear.

"Dad," I say, but he ignores me and stares at Silas.

"Please get off my door step," he demands.

I roll my eyes as Silas stumbles off the steps and clumsily backs away, towards Axel's car.

"S-sorry," he stammers. "Dr. Freedman, I'm sorry. I didn't-I would never hurt her."

Dad just stares at him until Silas turns and hurries to Axel.

I stare at Dad in disbelief and annoyance. When he starts to walk inside I turn to watch him and notice Mom standing in the entryway, looking a little like Dad, but also amused by the entire situation.

Dad holds open the door and I walk inside, looking at Mom who shrugs and gives me a look that tells me I'm on my own here.

"Do we need to have a conversation again?" Dad asks, setting his bag down and rubbing his chin, because he's worked up.

"I am quite familiar with reproduction, Dad, and last I read, it doesn't occur via kissing," I reply drily.

"That's how it starts!" he replies, now pacing. "A kiss, and a crush, and then you're in the backseat of a Camaro, getting pregnant!"

My brow furrows as I stare at him in amused disbelief. "Really? I'm suddenly the easy girl, giving it up in a car?"

"Boys are pushy. They are hormonal, and immature, and they only think about one thing! I would know! I was one of those boys!"

"Dad, you're being ridiculous. And you just insulted me, after crashing my first kiss."

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Nope. It's too soon. Yesterday you're-you're getting your first tooth and scoring your first soccer goal. First piano recital! It's not the time to be thinking about boys, and-and sex. It's too important! It's not something you just jump into."

"Dad," I stare at him. "It was a _kiss_. You know me well enough to know that I am not stupid."

"Honey, I do not think you're stupid."

"Then calm down! Give me some credit, and focus on that huge thing called trust. I was under the impression that I was worthy of yours!"

This makes his mouth close, and I glance at Mom, trying to convey with my eyes that she did a lame thing by just leaving me hanging, but she's got that terrified-shocked look like Dad, only she's better at toning hers down. I walk away and go upstairs.

"I...was not prepared for this," I hear Dad say.

"Me neither," Mom sighs.

The next morning, we go for brunch, but I can tell that Mom and Dad are preoccupied, about both last night and tomorrow morning, when Amelia's intervention is meant to happen. I spend the afternoon filling binders with paper, labeling notebooks and stashing pens in every place I tend to look for one when in need-binders, different pockets of my bookbag and a handful in my bag. Dad and I watch Jeopardy as I try to will my stomach to stop churning itself like butter.

I've never gone to school without Jamie. Dad tries to comfort me, pulling me into his chest as I sink into the couch. I lean into him and try to think only of Alex Trebek and what he's saying.

When Mom finishes working from her computer, she sits beside me, sandwiching me between them.

"Senior year," Dad sighs. "How the hell did that happen so fast?"

"I skipped third grade," I reply. "So technically...yes. It really did come faster than normal."

"One day, when you're very rich and successful, I hope you have a nice beach house ready for Mom and me," he replies.

"It did come out of nowhere," Mom says thoughtfully. "It's been a big year. I'm glad you're such a warrior," she smiles, playing with my hair.

"I think I was questionable a few times," I admit.

"You're doing amazingly well, honey," Dad disagrees.

We spend the rest of the night eating Thai in front of the TV, watching movies.

The next morning I wake up to the unfamiliar sound of my alarm. Today I have to go to school, do things, see people...be in an environment I've never experienced without Jamie attached to my side. I shut off the alarm and scratch Nigel's ears.

"I wish you could come with me, buddy," I say quietly to him. He looks at me with his big brown eyes. Mom pokes her head in.

"Just making sure you were up," she grins.

I smile, small.

"I think you're going to have a better day than you expect, darlin'. Might have to take a few deep breaths once or twice, but...it's school. You like school. And you're great at it. You're gonna be just fine."

I nod, and she smiles and disappears, calling Nigel who lazily gets up and follows her.

I get up and flip on my music before having a quick shower, leaving my hair dry. Wrapped in a towel, I choose a pair of dark jeans, a deep purple, loose top, a bandeau and a leather bomber. I choose a necklace, and then add another before sitting down to put on some makeup.

I pin some of my bangs back, because I hate trying to write with it falling in my face, and put on a bit of mascara and eyeliner. I slip on the grey Toms and double-check my bookbag for all of the necessary binders. I check myself again in the mirror, touching a picture of Jamie and me.

"You better be right there with me," I murmur.

I have breakfast with Mom and Dad, talking about what classes I have today. AP English, AP Spanish, AP Calculus, English 12 (a different curriculum), AP History, AP French, and soccer. Since I finished all other math courses last year, I have a spare block every day. Soccer is right after lunch so instead of staying until 3:30, I'm finished my day at 2:45.

After breakfast I grab my bag and pluck my keys out of the bowl. Mom has attached my house and car keys onto one keyring, with a purple K charm on it. I smile at her.

"Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome, baby," she hugs me and kisses my cheek. "I love you. Have a great day, darlin'." She tucks hair behind my ear. "Call me if you need me."

I nod, and she kisses my forehead before Dad gives me a hug and a kiss. He's quiet for a moment as he looks at me, still coming to terms with the whole growing-up thing.

"I love you. Have fun today," he grins.

I smile and head for the door.

"Drive safely, sugar," Mom says firmly.

"I will."


	31. Chapter 31

I get into my car and calmly toss my bag onto the passenger seat. After driving him a few times, I feel more comfortable with Al Gore; we understand each other. I buckle in and start the car, and when I look in the rearview mirror I can see my parents standing on the front steps.

I pull out of the driveway and leave. I feel pangs for Jamie, as I remember the last time I made this drive. With her.

At school, I park on the other side of the parking lot from where Jamie and I would always park Black Betty. I grab my bag and get out, making my way across the parking lot. People turn to stare at me, but behind my sunglasses, I can just ignore them. I know them, but not well. They're more like acquaintances; I've always been quieter, preferring a small group of close friends. I keep walking, shoulders back, and when I get near the doors I hear someone call my name. I turn and see Max, Jenelle, Megan, Axel, Chase and Silas. Silas stares at me. I smile as Max waves and go over to where they're lounging on a picnic table.

"Hey," Max smiles, hugging me.

"Hey," I reply, addressing everyone.

"Damn girl, it's good to have you back here," Axel hugs me.

Silas grins shyly. "Hey."

"Hey."

"New car looks awesome."

"Al Gore," I say, nodding, and they laugh.

"Figures you'd name your car something political," Chase grins.

"What's your first class?" Silas asks.

"English."

"You mean AP English," he grins. "I have English 12. With Meade." He makes a face.

"Rough," I nod.

"Lunch?" he asks.

"Sure," I smile, and he smiles back. "I'll see you guys later,"

"Lunch, Kati, k?" Max calls. I nod and walk towards the doors. Silas hurries after me, opening the door.

"Axel and I are going to fire off some paint after school. You wanna come?"

"How about Wednesday?" I suggest. His grins returns and he nods.

"I'll see you soon," he says.

I smile and nod, heading inside.

I find my class and see some familiar faces. I'm the only one of my close friends in most of my AP courses. Axel and Chase take AP Calc with me, and I see Max for AP History, though, so it helps to have closer people nearby for at least some of the time.

The people I know in most of my AP classes run in different crowds. I like them, and we get along, but everyone has their own group of friends, or spend their spare time with Mathletes or the Science club, for extra credit.

My favorite friend in AP is a guy named Victor. He's really shy and has a mild case of Asperger's. He loves to talk about Jeopardy and infectious diseases, so we've had some pretty good conversations. I sit across from him, and he looks over slowly and then smiles slightly. Victor's never been a big smiler.

"Katelyn," he says, because he never uses nicknames. "I'm glad you're back."

"Thanks, Victor. Me, too," I smile.

"I was very sorry to hear that your friend died," he says solemnly.

I force a grateful, but painful, smile and nod. "Me too."

He nods and then continues assembling his pens. Black, black, blue, blue and one red. I start pulling out my binder, day-planner and pens. Mr. Cranston, one of my favorite teachers, comes in. His dry sarcasm and sense of humor, and his knack for helping anyone understand anything from Shakespeare to Poe to Dostoevsky makes him a fabulour teacher. I remember seeing him at Jamie's funeral, I realize.

"Hey, stranger," he smiles, seeing me, setting down his briefcase. "Decided to put in some hours for the ol' diploma?"

"Well, I decided a lifetime of poverty and burger-flippin' wasn't really my style," I reply. "Dirt's not really a color that goes with my complexion."

"Ah, come on," he holds up his hands. "Brown's 'in' this season, isn't it?"

"Not in my closet," I reply.

He grins and begins unloading his briefcase. A few more people greet me. There are only 11-15 students per AP class, and I love it. I can't stand huge groups. Teachers genuinely care about their students at Chadwick.

I realize, as I settle in and trade one of the pens I took out for a different one, that I've really missed this. School makes me feel calm and good and...I don't know. I know what I want, and that's Berkeley, and knowing that doing this gets me there, makes it feel like a good thing. Plus I'm a total geek. I love learning things. Hence, why I'm taking three language courses.

Cranston begins and goes over the syllabus. He walks up and down the aisles handing out our reading list, talking about the books, but stops, hesitating with the list in his hand.

"Can I trust you with this, Miss Freedman? Or should I give you one a time so you don't go and read all of them in a week?"

"Do not deny me my literature," I say seriously, holding out my hand.

He grins and gives it to me. I'm pleased to see some Shakespeare, Margaret Atwood, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, and what I recognize as a Holocaust memoir that I've already read. Several times.

Cranston assigns our reading and we spend the rest of the class discussing our personal summer reading. I'm never exactly extroverted during class, but for this discussion I am completely silent. Cranston notices but doesn't call me out on it.

As I'm leaving after the bell rings, he smiles kindly. "It's good to see you, Freedman."

"Thanks," I smile. "It's good to be back."

My Spanish teacher is a younger teacher. Most Chadwick teachers are over 35, but Mr. Graynor is probably around 30. He's really smart and fun and his class average every semester is no less than an A-.

"Pipes," he smiles, using my tennis nickname (he's one of the coaches). "I've missed you! And your spectacularly dry wit."

I smile. "Nobody else to admire 30 Rock with?"

"Alas, no one else seems to have the respect for it. You are one of a kind."

"Pity," I reply, taking a seat. As always, I sit front row, farthest from the door. The corner space has always been my favorite. It's easier to concentrate and see everything.

I mark down my English reading in my day-planner. As usual, Graynor spends the first class showing us hilarious Spanish novellas, stopping every five minutes to make someone decipher what just happened. It's actually pretty hard sometimes, because they talk so fast and use certain colloquialisms that we don't always know.

He ends the class by spending the last 15 minutes playing a trivia game. I get a certain pleasure out of beating Alison Paradis, a girl who, for absolutely no reason, has always disliked me.

Next up is AP Calc. I'm the only girl in this class. Thank god for Axel and Chase being there, too.

"Kati Freedman, as I live and breathe," Mr. Speer, my calc teacher, says as he takes attendance.

I lazily salute him as I sit down beside Axel.

"Sick scar, dude," Peter Haven says, staring at my forehead. It's pretty visible with my hair up, I realize. A fact I didn't think about when I was pinning my hair out of my way for school.

Speer walks by and whacks Peter with his clipboard. Peter, stoned as always, rubs his head, confused. I honestly don't know how he passes calc when he gets high as soon as he wakes up in the morning.

"Man, that kid gives grass an even worse rep," Axel says, glaring at Peter. Axel may like to smoke, but never at school.

I just ignore Peter and pull out my binder.

"It is a pretty sick scar, though," Axel grins mischievously. I shove him playfully and he laughs.

Calc is blissfully quiet. Speer puts us right to work, doing a couple pages of problems, and the quiet and the need to focus completely on what I'm doing is perfect.

After class, the three of us head our separate ways. I meet up with Max, who has English 12 with me next. The quick route to the classroom passes Jamie's locker, so I avoid it. Max, thankfully, doesn't even question my detour. We sit next to each other and pore over the syllabus like the literary nerds that we are. Our teacher, Ms. Anders, is pleasant enough, but not overly chatty or amiable. But we get along, and as I'm leaving class and I place my first essay outline on her desk, she puts her hand on mine and I look at her to find her smiling. Sad, but proud.

"It's good to have you back, Miss Freedman."

I give her an appreciative smile. "Thank you."

She pats my hand and continues gathering the papers neatly into a stack.

The rest of the day is AP History, with Max again, and then AP French right before lunch. I copy down all of the homework for each class, which is, as expected, hefty, but I like it, knowing that I am going to be wonderfully busy all semester.

I have lunch with everybody and then head to tennis. I haven't practiced all summer, I think nervously.

My main coach, Mr. Reinich, is great. He's fabulous at tennis and is a great motivator. He's tough, but he takes it easy on me today when he notices how rusty my serve has gotten.

"Let's put some extra work into that serve tomorrow," he says afterwards. I nod, guiltily.

"It's definitely not something to brag about."

"We'll have you back to annihilating me on the court in no time," he grins.


	32. Chapter 32

As I'm leaving at the end of the day I check my phone and realize I've missed a couple of texts from Mom and Dad, just seeing how my day was going. I get in my car and, out of habit, drive to the practice, where I usually spend a couple hours after school. So caught up with school, I completely forgot what today is. Until I reach the fifth floor and I hear, through the still-closed elevator doors, someone yelling. My stomach sinks as I realize what I'm about to walk into, and I feel incredibly nervous and stupid for forgetting.

It must have been one hell of a day, because everyone looks tired and pained. Mom looks surprised to see, understandably, when the elevator dings open and they all turn to see who it is. There's a woman I don't know. She must be the interventionist. Everything is silent and tense, and I think about staying in the elevator and leaving, but Mom nods slightly for me to come in. When I step off the elevator, my face flushing, Amelia spins around. She looks terrible. Dark bags under her eyes, tired skin and ragged hair. When she sees me she flings her hands up and half-turns to look at Mom.

"Really, Charlotte? You called your daughter to 'help'? She's 16 goddamn years old!"

She turns to face me and I've never seen her look so angry. Mom hurries over towards me, furious.

"What, you think because your idiot best friend smashed her car into a truck, almost slaughtering _you _in the process, that you _understand _me?"

"Hey!" Mom says sharply, reaching my side and protectively trying to stand in front of me. But I gently push her aside, so she's not blocking me from Amelia. I know this isn't Amelia. I know she's not really this person, and as much as what she just shot at me slices into me like a knife, I refuse to settle this into my mind as 'something Amelia said'. Furious, she continues.

"Y'know, _your _best friend showed up in that hospital dead. And you were _barely _alive! Do you realize that? Your goddamn brain was bleeding on my table! _I saved your life!_ So don't you dare try to tell me how I should change mine! If it weren't for me, you'd be _dead_. Just like Jamie!"

Mom is fuming, I can feel her shake the slightest bit as she tightens her grip on my wrist.

Calmly, I look at Amelia.

"You're right," I say.

She laughs and rolls her eyes, pacing and running her hands through her hair. But she stops and looks at me when I continue.

"My best friend's gone. And if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here right now. And I'm lucky that I had you, and my parents and Violet and everyone else here to pull me up every time I let myself fall. But you have that, too. Do you not get that? There are eight people behind you who love you. Who consider you family, and who are trying to help you."

I don't raise my voice, not even a little. I maintain the calmest voice possible.

"This is so far behind Michelle. It's not just about losing her. You wouldn't understand, you haven't even _lived! _You are a _child!_" she spins back away from us and paces.

Mom keeps her grip on my wrist and pulls me away, towards her office, as Dad follows.

"She doesn't mean it," Mom says quietly.

"I know," I say softly.

We're all quiet, taking deep breaths.

"How was today?" Dad asks, changing the subject.

"Good," I try to smile, but suddenly Amelia is yelling even louder.

"Do it! Do it and I'll do what you want!"

"What does she want?" I ask, looking through the blinds. Mom goes over and closes them.

"Nothing," she replies.

I know she's trying to protect me from this entire situation, but I wish she wouldn't.

I can't see what's going on once they both go back out to the main area, and I try not to listen, but Amelia's screaming. Something about her father, who died when she was five.

Twenty minutes later, they come back. They both look exhausted.

"Come on, sugar," Mom says softly. "We're leaving."

"I...I drove myself," I say.

She rubs her forehead. "Your daddy and I drove together. He'll drive your car home," she decides. Dad nods and after a moment he puts his arms around her.

"It'll be okay," he whispers, and kisses her.

She asks me to get my stuff together, and we leave.

Mom's quiet as we drive, but makes an unexpected turn. We stop in front of a building I've never seen.

"What are we doing?" I ask.

She turns off the car and looks at me.

"I need to go to a meeting," she says, her brow furrowed. I know Mom's gone to meetings throughout my life. Not often, just whenever she gets too overwhelmed, or a particular case hits a little too close to home for her. She went to one around the time of my accident.

Wordlessly, I unbuckle and get out of the car. She follows and comes around the car to the sidewalk in front of the building, looking at it. I take her hand and she squeezes mine gratefully as we walk enter a room full of people and find two seats near the back. Mom inhales and exhales, trying to relax herself. After the man talking finishes telling the group how he's 30-days sober and trying to make amends, the group leader looks to Mom and nods encouragingly. She stands up.

"My name is Charlotte...and I am an addict." Even in the face of this, she can still come across as unbreakable. To everyone except Dad and me.

Everyone greets her. I've never been to one of these before, but I'm glad she brought me. I don't really get some of it, though, because I don't see my mother as an addict. I see my Mom. Chief-of-staff doctor and fiercely protective Mom; the woman who comes across as hard but takes care of me, above all else.

"I've been sober for 21 years, 11 months and four days."

That's how long, I realize, it's been since she slipped up, a couple of years after her residency when she became addicted.

People nod encouragingly, looking impressed; some look at me.

"My friend Amelia is in trouble...she needs help, but she's fighting it..."

I don't often see Mom look so sad, and angry, and even scared. I wonder how she must have been during that very first meeting, so many years ago.

"Seeing her like...like she is right now, reminds me of how glad I am, how lucky, to have stayed sober. I can't say I didn't want even just one of the pills-of Amelia's-that I found...but I didn't give in. I didn't fall because..." Her eyes look glassy and she looks down at her hands, clasped in front of her. "Because I'm a mother. And taking care of my child, setting the best example possible for her, is what's most important."

Her voice is a little shaky, and I feel my own eyes sting, just seeing her anguish.

"Your daughter is proud of you, Charlotte. We all are," the group leader says. "Temptation is our most difficult battle. And we are all so glad that you beat it. And that your friend has you for support. Even though she doesn't realize it just yet. But give her time...you know where she is right now."

Mom nods shortly, her breathing finally normalized. She sits down and wraps an arm around my shoulders, using that hand to cup my head and kiss my forehead. I hold her other hand as we sit there and listen to other stories, of hope and despair and triumph, until she's ready to go.

In the car I can see how much the meeting helped her.

"Thank you," she says quietly as she drives. I look over. "For coming with me."

I smile at her and she smiles back, squeezing my hand.


	33. Chapter 33

We go home and climb onto the couch in our pajamas. I do homework and tell her about my day, and then Dad comes home with take out. He settles onto the couch with us, kissing my forehead and then holding Mom for an extra few minutes.

After dinner she falls asleep against Dad's chest, with his arm around her. He carries her up to bed and comes back down to sit with me.

"Did you make Mom and me those schedules?" he asks. Every semester I make them each a color-coded schedule, because they're easier to read than the school-provided ones.

I reach into my binder and pull out two cue cards, handing them over. They already know my classes, but the schedule is good to have on hand.

"Busy semester," he says.

"Yeah. But I like it. I want to be busy," I reply, closing my Spanish book.

"I never took more than one English class in a semester," he observes. "Busy isn't going to be a problem, I don't think." He grins.

"English 12 is mandatory. AP has a way better reading list."

"I bet," he agrees. "How was tennis? That's a great way to end the day, huh? Driving yourself crazy with all of that math last year is paying off."

"Agh, tell me about it. I'm so glad I only have calc to worry about. But yeah, tennis was alright. I'm so out of shape, though. It was bordering on embarrassing."

"Ah, you'll get back into it. We can play on Saturday?" he suggests.

"Paintball instead?" I smile. He laughs.

"Yeah, you're right. You'll be all tennis-ed out."

"Actually, I'll be home late tomorrow. I'm going with Axel and Silas. Paintballing, I mean."

"Okay, honey. Let us know when you'll be home, though, okay?" He studies my schedule. "You have Cranston this year?" he asks.

I realize I didn't list my teachers on the schedule.

"Yeah, for AP English."

He nods. He likes Cranston, too.

"How much did they drop on you today?" He means homework.

"Not much," I shrug. "Verb conjugation for Spanish and French. Essay outline for English 12. Some calc problems...and just reading for history."

"You're already finished all of it. Aren't you," he eyes me, not actually asking.

I smile in response and he chuckles.

I'm not prepared for Tuesday morning. As I'm heading to Spanish, out of habit, with my head focused on Spanish verbs, I head down a hallway, forgetting to detour. Suddenly, Jamie's locker is in front of me. It's adorned with flowers, Post-It notes and photos, all taped to the front. I stand there, unaware that my legs work and I could easily walk away. People, on their way to class, pass me, but I just stand there, tightly gripping my shoulder strap. All I can see is Jamie, dumping books messily into her locker, the two of us laughing at something.

I don't know how long I stand there. I don't even realize when the hallways become empty and says my name, but my eyes are glued to the locker. Suddenly, Mr. Jeffrey, my music teacher since freshman year, is looking into my face. His voice is saying my name, but it sounds far away. Without a word he puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me away.

I didn't realize I was crying, but there are tears on my cheeks and I wipe them away, frustrated.

He leads me into his music room and gently pushes me down onto the piano bench, taking my bag off my shoulder.

"Play," he commands.

Mr. Jeffrey is one of my favorite teachers. He's incredibly talented and funny and nice, and has been one of my biggest supporters ever since hearing my audition for Upper Orchestra.

I feel like my hands aren't mine.

"Play," he repeats, more firmly. But he's not being mean, he just believes in music being therapeutic.

Without thinking I bring my hands to the keys and start playing. It's Konstantine, by Something Corporate. I think of nothing else but every key and hitting every note. When I start to sing, I'm raspy at first, but eventually my voice is clear. The song is long; one of the best to play when you're upset; needing distraction.

Jeffrey sits right beside the piano on a stool the entire time. When I finish, I stare at the keys for a few moments.

"The first blow is always the worst," he says. "Use this," he taps the piano. "Use your talent."

He looks at me for a moment.

"I'll write you an excused for this block. Just hang out here, alright? Calm yourself down."

I nod and he squeezes my shoulder and leaves.

I get up and pick up his guitar, playing a few of my own songs. When the bell rings I take a deep breath, make sure my face is clear of tear stains and head to calculus.

I keep my head in my textbook all class, avoiding Axel, who can tell that something is not okay.

"Hey, you," he nudges me as we're leaving class. "What's up?"

"Nothing," I shrug.

"I'm not buying that. Come on, girl." He pulls me out of the crowd of people walking, into a corner.

"I, uh...I saw Jamie's locker. This morning...I forgot to take the other hallway."

He looks so concerned. "Sorry, Kati."

He reaches out and squeezes my hand. I refuse to let any tears escape.

"It's...fine. I'm fine."

"Shut up," he says quietly, and hugs me. "You never are when you say that word."

He pulls back and tries to cheer me up. "Paintball today, yeah?"

I'd forgotten. I nod, and he grins.

"Gonna school you, bra," he says, backing up to head to his class.

"You're delirious," I reply. He smiles and points at me before sauntering off.

Cranston's dry humor cheers me up a bit more during English. During break I check my phone and see a message from Mom, telling me to call her. I find an empty classroom.

"Hey darlin'. How are you doing?"

"Good," I reply. "What's up?

"Mr. Jeffrey called me this morning, baby. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Oh... Yeah. I just...wasn't exactly prepared...for that."

"I know, sugar. But maybe this is better, Getting it over with."

"Yeah," I say.

"You sure you're okay, baby?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. Really. I'm fine."

"Don't you lie to your mama. We both hate that word," she says, but I hear a smile in her voice and it makes me smile.

"I'll see you later," I say. "I've gotta get to class."

"I love you, sugar."

"Love you."

I hang up and make my way to history, eating an apple as I go.

By the time seventh block arrives, I'm so grateful for the physical exertion of tennis. My arm is sore, but I power through, serving just as hard as I normally would.

I had planned on doing homework while Axel and Silas had their eighth block, but they ambush me as I'm sitting on a table outside.

"Ready, Katizzle?" Silas grins.

"You are so very white," I shake my head, smiling. "And don't you guys have class?"

"Ah," Axel waves an arm. "We can miss it. Come on."

We head out and play three rounds of paintball.

When I get home it's almost 6:00, and I can smell dinner.

"Hey," Dad smiles as I enter the kitchen. Mom looks up from setting the table.

"Hey, sugar," she smiles. "Don't you get paint on that rug." She points.

"It's dry," I give her a look. "I'll be right down."

I hurry upstairs and shower the paint off before dinner.

"How was the rest of your day?" Mom asks at dinner.

"Better," I reply.

"Sorry, honey," Dad reaches out and squeezes my hand. "I heard about this morning."

"Yeah," I say, busying myself with pouring water.

"Must have been hard," he says. I nod.

"It looks pretty, though," I admit. "They left flowers and things all over it."

"That's really nice," Dad says kindly. "How were your classes?" he asks, seeing that I'm done talking about Jamie, because it's starting to make my eyes glassy and he can tell.

"Good. Got an A+ on a pop quiz in history. Just review stuff, really."

"That's great, sugar," Mom smiles.

"How about you guys? How was work?"

"Well," Mom glances at Dad. "We saw Amelia today."

The way she says it makes me look at both of them.

"How was she?" I ask after a moment.

"Ryan died. Her boyfriend. From an overdose."

"Oh my god," I set my fork down.

"Amelia found him. She was pretty shaken up, but...she agreed to rehab."

"That's terrible," I mumble. "About Ryan. She must be devastated."

"She is," Mom nods. "She's gonna have a real rough go of it now, too. It's gonna get worse before it gets better. But at least she's finally come around."

We're quiet for a moment.

"So. Pretty bleak day all around, then," I say drily. They give me a look for the sarcasm, but it makes them smile anyways, shaking their heads, as we move on to different conversation.


	34. Chapter 34

I fall into a comfortable routine of school, homework and even friends. I start accepting invitations and spending time with Max more, as well as frequent paintball rounds with Axel and Silas.

One Friday after paintball, we end up at my house. When Dad gets home he almost bumps into Silas as he's coming out of the bathroom. Silas looks terrified when he makes eye contact with Dad, who starts at him. It's been two weeks since Dad barged in our kiss.

"D-Dr. Freedman. Hey. H-how are you?" he stammers.

"Dad," I say from the kitchen, meaning he should be nice.

Dad sighs. "Silas," he nods once and continues up the stairs to change out of work clothes.

"Your dad wants to kill me. With a hammer," Silas says, coming to stand by the island where I'm loading a platter with vegetables, cheese, fruit and crackers.

"Interesting choice of weapon," I respond, nodding.

"Blunt force trauma," he says, matter-of-factly.

"He's a doctor. He'd probably poison you with a deadly cocktail of narcotics. Or come at you with a bone-saw and scalpel."

Silas stares at me. "God, I love your brain."

I laugh and shake my head as I pick up the platter. Outside, Axel is pawing through a pile of toys that we keep around for Lucas.

"Yo, let's play with this," he laughs. He's holding up a kid's T-ball set.

"If we damage that, Lucas will be very upset. Probably enough to call you a 'stupid head'," I warn. He laughs.

"I can handle the little man. I'll get him a new set if we do. Come on."

We set down the food and head out to the lawn, facing the emptiness over the fence. It looks out onto a man-made lake and sparsely placed houses, all in a circle overlooking the lake through their backyards. This way the balls will end up in the grass and not through a window. Actually, they're rubber balls, but regardless. This is smarter.

Silas sets up a ball and hands me the bat.

I hit a pretty decent ball that goes over the fence, and hand the bat the Axel. He laughs and tells Silas to be ready to catch it, so we don't lose another one.

"Yeah, right. You'll nut me," Silas complains.

"Man, come on. What are the chances when the bat swings _up_? Besides, it's just rubber. Don't be such a nancy."

Silas rolls his eyes but goes to stand by the fence.

Obviously, the ball has to sack him.

It whacks against his groin and he keels over and groans loudly, as Axel bursts into laughter. I try to stifle mine but I can't, and once I start, I can't stop. I haven't laughed, I mean really laughed, in so long. I can't remember when. Axel has his arm around my shoulders to steady himself as we roar with laughter, and doubles over, pulling me with him and we end up rolling in the grass, laughing so hard it hurts.

"Shut up, jerks," Silas pouts, holding himself.

But he starts laughing, too, and we all laugh, lying there until the laughs fade off into soft breathy laughs and then just smiles.

I let my head drop to one side and see Mom standing near the deck door, having just gotten home from work. She shakes her head and laughs softly before going inside to change. I go to get a Sprite from the table and overhear Mom greeting Dad.

"You see that?" he asks.

Mom must nod, because she replies, "I haven't seen _that _Kati in ages."

I smile, because she's right. I feel very like myself right now. And I haven't laughed until it hurt since Jamie was here.

Axel and Silas come to the table and we sit around the umbrellaed table, joking around and snacking.

Dad comes outside and drops a small bag of frozen peas onto Silas' lap. He winces, but chokes out a thank-you. Dad passes a basketball from hand to hand.

"Solid hit, buddy," Dad nudges Axel, and they chuckle.

Sam appears at the side gate, coming into the backyard.

"Hey," Dad greets him.

"Hey," Sam replies. "Kati, looking gorgeous, as always." He kisses my cheek.

"Aw, you say that to all the girls," I wave a hand of dismissal.

He chuckles. "Nah. Only the pretty ones."

He smiles evilly and I laugh.

"You shootin' some hoops, Doc?" Axel asks.

"Yep," he replies. "You boys wanna join? Two on two?"

Axel shrugs and gets up. "I won't turn down some b-ball."

Silas looks unsure, but follows them to the side of the house where Dad made a small basketball "court".

"Should I prepare ice packs?" Mom asks, appearing at the side door. I laugh as she steps out and slides the door shut. The work clothes have been replaced by cropped yoga pants and a green top. Very similar to my outfit, of the same pants, a white bandeau and a purple top.

She smiles when she notices. "Cute outfit," she pokes my ribs, and I smile, jumping at the tickle.

We sit on the semi-circle steps outside the side door.

Dad is blatantly picking on Silas, but at least it's in a half-playful way.

"Coop," Mom says, a slight warning in her voice when Dad shoves a little too roughly.

He relaxes a bit, and they play three rounds; Axel and Silas win two.

"Young blood," Sam says, dribbling after his second loss.

Max shows up as they begin round four.

"Hey, darlin'. Pull up some concrete," Mom nods at the steps.

"Hey," Max smiles and sits down. "What's the damage?"

"Catastrophic for the adult male ego," I reply, nibbling on some cucumber.

"Figures. These two," Max shakes her head. "Did you decide on your English essay?"

"Fitzgerald...I think," I reply. "Always something fascinating about the mentally ill." I nod slowly.

"Good one. I was thinking Hemingway. But he's so...typical. I mean, not his writing. Just the fact that everyone writes about him."

"How about Margaret Atwood?" I suggest.

"Nah. _Surfacing _made me feel like shooting myself in the face."

"Yeah. She'll do that," I agree.

"That the one who wrote the poem about the fish hook in the eye?" Mom frowns.

"Yep."

"Good lord. Her writing makes me feel like 10 miles of bad road," Mom replies drily.

I laugh shortly at her old Southern adage.

Two-on-two turns into three-on-three, when Mom goes to pizza and the guys call Max and I out.

Dad, Axel and I take on Sam, Silas and Max. I fake past Sam and end up getting a three-pointer.

"Daaaamn, Coop! Your girl's got game," he breathes.

"Yeah, NBD," Dad shrugs, pretending to be all cool and talking like he's my age. "I made her. Grew her in m'lady's womb and all that."

Everyone stares at him and I shake my head, making a face. He's such a dork sometimes.

After Dad, Axel and I reach the 21 points first, we all head into the backyard, spreading around the table and pool.

Axel decides to do flips off the cliff-slide, so I grab a notebook and Max and I make fake score cards. Silas joins in and after a 4.0, he pulls me into the water. I grab Max and drag her with me.

Now we're all soaked, fully clothed and laughing. We have some pizza, hanging out until Sam goes home and Mom and Dad head inside to watch a movie.

"Party at Chase's tonight. Wanna go?" Axel asks.

I shrug. "For a bit," I reply. Max goes home to change, so I go upstairs and grab some dry clothes.

"Is it okay if I go out for a bit? There's some people going to Chase's."

It's a simple question, but for us it now holds so much more than simplicity. Mom always hesitates and Dad ends up looking like he forgot how to speak.

"Sure, baby," Mom finally agrees. "Home by 11:00, okay?"

I nod. Before, I would have bartered for midnight, but even I'm still uneasy about going to parties. Mom gets off the couch and hugs me tightly.

"Love you, darlin'."

I start to head outside to get Axel and Silas, and follow them in my own car to Chase's.

The party is pretty uneventful. It's huge, though, and people are spread out among the inside and the backyard. I accept the unopened beer someone hands me and sit with Axel, Silas, Max, Megan and Jenelle around a patio table with some other people, playing Battleship-Shots. Basically there's a barrier across the middle of the table so either side can't see each other's space on the table. Each team gets five "boats", which have little circular nooks where a shot glass fits. Then, you just play Battleship. If the other team "hits" you, you drink the shot.

Silas and Axel are playing Megan and Jenelle. By the time Jenelle pukes up a tequila shot and spills another shot of gin on my jeans, it's almost curfew, so I say a few goodbyes and head out.

Silas, a little tipsy, catches up with me as I'm about to open my car door. "Hey!"

I spin around. "Hey," I reply.

He stares at me and then seems to slightly shake his head. Suddenly he grabs my face and kisses me.

He tastes like vodka and bubblemint gum, and his lips are as warm and soft as I remember.

This kiss, uninterrupted, lasts longer. When I pull away, he smiles.

"Finally," he breathes. He leans in and kisses me again, short and sweet. "Drive safe."

He heads back towards the backyard and I get in my car, seeing him out of the corner of my eye as he turns and watches me drive away.

Mom and Dad are, of course, still up. They're watching Chelsea Lately when I come in.

"Hey, baby," Mom looks up, and they both look noticeably relieved. "Did you have fun?"

I shrug. "Yeah. Jenelle threw up and spilled gin all over me, though."

I sit beside her on the couch and they both look at my leg where the dark, wet denim is.

"You smell like a distillery," Mom stares at me.

"Well, that's what happens when someone decides to launder your clothes in gin for you," I reply.

"Your mouth even smells like booze," she raises her eyebrows at me.

"Mom," I say, shaking my head and getting off the couch.

"Come on. Why are you boozy?" Dad presses.

"I am not 'boozy'. It's not...it's not my booze. I...Silas...he had a few drinks."

Mom raises her eyebrows again, but Dad just looks confused for a second before he clues in.

"Did you...was he kissing you again?" he demands, his eyes widening, looking protective and a little angry.

"Good night, you guys," I sigh, heading for the stairs.

"Night, sugar," Mom replies.

"Was he kissing her?" I hear Dad demand from Mom again.

In the morning I haul my binder and books downstairs to get all of my homework out of the way. Mom's up already, kissing my forehead as I come into the kitchen. Dad stumbles down while Mom's on her laptop and I'm in the middle of calculus questions.

"What are you working on?" he asks, sitting down and looking at my stack of textbooks.

"Implicit differentiation," I reply.

"I beg your pardon, _what _did you just call me?" he frowns.

I look at him drily, shaking my head, as Mom chuckles.

I finish calculus and my research on F. Scott Fitzgerald and then go upstairs to play my guitar for a bit. I hear Mom calling me, so I poke my head out and see her at the bottom of the stairs.

"There's a gentleman caller for you," she grins.

"Well what a nice surprise," I reply, in my flawless Southern accent, coming down the stairs.

I see Silas standing just inside the door, a slight smile on his confused face.

I nod my head towards the stairs and he follows me.

"Wow," he chuckles, as we get into my room and he sits on the bed. "You're really good at the Southern accent."

"Try growing up around southern-Alabamans. It's inevitable."

I move my guitar off the bed. "How was the rest of your night?"

He shrugs. "It was alright. Jenelle threw up a few more times so Max called her brother to come get her. Except her mom showed up instead. She was pretty pissed, yelling at Jenelle and dragging her to her car."

"Jesus," I laugh quietly, shaking my head.

"Apparently someone found Ryan Bartelds with Corbie Michaels and Jazz Cooper in a bedroom. All of them. Literally 'in the middle' of something."

"Corbie and Jazz should be in HPV brochures," I sigh.

I look up and see Dad, obviously having heard about the high-school porno. He looks wide-eyed and scared.

"Dad," I say, letting my head fall to one side. I give him a look, but thankfully Mom's hand appears and tugs him back downstairs.

"Did you _hear _that?" he half-whispers to her.

"Stop eavesdroppin' on our child," she replies.

"What a guy," I sigh.

"So what were you playing. Before I got here?" he gestures to my guitar.

"Oh, just messing around," I wave a hand.

"Come on. Let me hear."

"Umm..." I mumble, biting my lip.

"Please?"

"I really don't...like playing, in front of people."

"Just one?" he asks.

I give in and play him my newest song, and he stares at me with this look that makes my chest flutter.

"You're amazing," he smiles.

I feel myself blush, so I get up to put my guitar in its stand, my face hidden.

"Seriously," he says, when I sit back down. "You have no idea how amazing you are."

I don't know what to say, but he doesn't leave me feeling awkward for long.

"So. I was hoping you wanted to hang out? Maybe eat hot dogs in front of the windows at the Y?"

I laugh, remembering a day back when we first started liking each other more. He, Jamie, Axel and I went to the beach, and for lunch we went up to the boardwalk for hot dogs. We ate them in front of a huge window at the Y where people on treadmills can look out onto the ocean. Or four 15-year-olds eat hot dogs.

"It has been awhile," I nod.

He smiles and stands up. I get up and grab my bag and some sunglasses.

Downstairs Mom and Dad are in the kitchen working on laptops, surrounded by patient files.

"Okay if we go down to the pier for a bit?"

"Sure, baby," Mom replies.

"Who's driving?" Dad asks. It's a silly question. I still have issues with driving with people my own age. I did it once with Max, but haven't since.

"I am, Dad." But he still eyes Silas.

"You drinking last night, Silas?" he tests.

"Um...yes, sir. I had a few drinks. But I didn't drive. I wouldn't. Ever," he shakes his head, nervous.

"Dad," I look at him pointedly.

"I guess no one can stop you kids from drinking. You'll find a way to do it anyway...but don't be an idiot. If I ever find out you've endangered my daughter..."

"Dr. Freedman, I would never. I swear to you," he holds his hands up in front of his chest. He extends his sincere looks to Mom, who has the hardened Protective Parent face on, too.

Christ, they're quite a pair.

"Alright, sweetheart. Keep your phone on, okay?" Dad replies. I kiss his cheek.

"Yes, Dad."

"Your dad is a lot less scary when a guy is 'just friends' with you," Silas says as we get into my car.

I glance at him and he continues quickly. "I mean, not that we aren't 'just friends'. I mean, I think we're a bit more than that...I just..."

He's stumbling over his words nervously, and I can't help but laugh softly.

"It's okay," I smile. He relaxes, but I can tell he was kind of hoping for a different answer.

A song comes on and he starts talking about music and guitarists, and the conversation lasts until we get to the pier.

We get out and walk along the boardwalk, checking out some stores and vendors. I find a scarf that I love, and Silas secretly pays for it while I'm trying it on.

"You didn't have to do that," I say after the vendor gestures that Silas has already paid.

"I wanted to," he shrugs. "You look gorgeous in purple, y'know."

He wants to stop at Burton to check out the new snowboards, and I agree, saying that I need some new stuff, too.

Mom, Dad and I usually go away for winter break, and snowboarding (or skiing, for Mom and Dad) trips are always popular.

We spend a long time pawing through the rows of boards before Silas pulls out a black and green one.

"Oh this is awesome," he says, checking out the bottom.

"That's sweet," I agree, admiring the design.

He holds onto it as we browse and I pick out some new snowboarding socks, gloves and goggles.

"You color-coordinate your boarding gear, don't you?" he grins, eyeing my white and purple merchandise.

"I don't have to answer that," I reply, straight-faced, but I end up smiling.

He tries to pay for my stuff but I step away from his reach.

"No way," I shake my head.

"Come on," he smiles, holding out his palm.

"Forget it, Mitchell," I reply.

"You're bringing out the surname?" he raises his eyebrows.

I smile, and he concedes as I pay for my stuff.

"Are you guys going up to Tahoe for Christmas? Or wait, you have Hanukkah, too, right?" he asks, after we drop out stuff off at my car. (Can't really carry around a snowboard.)

"Yes. Christmukkah, if you will. I'm not sure where we're going. It's usually a toss-up between Tahoe and Aspen. Or somewhere tropical, but that's ruled out already."

"Let me know. Axel and I wanna do a trip during break."

We talk about snowboarding and his previous Christmas trip to Whistler in Canada.

"Best conditions I've ever boarded in. Colder, obviously, but so worth it."

"Even when it's cold, you don't really feel it while you're riding. Just on the chair lift."

"Yeah, definitely. I always take the longest runs, just so I can avoid the lift."

"I need to talk my parents into a trip there," I say. "I'd love to check it out. Snowboarding in a place that is famous for it."

"I'll make sure you do," he grins.

We walk back to the boardwalk and get hot dogs before slowly walking by the window of the Y.

People on treadmills and ellipticals eye us, some glare and others chuckle. We loiter, just staring at the TVs before we leave, laughing.

"We're cruel," I say as we walk towards the water.

"You mispronounced 'cool'," he teases.

We sit on a dock and dangle our feet in the water.

"I love living near the beach," he sighs.

It's quiet for a few moments.

"So, look. About what I said in the car," he begins.

I look at him blankly.

"About us being just friends," he says. "We're not. Are we? Not really?"

I look back at him.

"Because I feel a lot more than just friendship when it comes to you."

I smile and he leans forward and kisses me. I'm still not used to the fluttery feeling I get in my chest. His hand cups the left side of my head and his lips are so soft. When he pulls back, he grins.

"Just friends, huh."

I laugh. "Apparently not."

"Good," he smiles.

When we get up to walk, he takes my hand. I've never realized how big his hands are until I see how mine is engulfed by his.

We stop and get slushies before walking along the boardwalk until it's time to head home.

When I pull into my driveway and park, he leans over and kisses me again.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," he says quietly.

He stares at me for a minute before we get out and he grabs his new board from my trunk.

"See ya," I say, raising a hand slightly as I back towards my front door.

"Not if I see you first," he grins, goofily.

"You did not just say that," I shake my head.

"What, I could be a stalker," he holds his palms up, looking at me like I'm being silly.

"Not helping the Dad situation," I call from across the lawn.

"Yeah, let's keep that one under wraps," his brow furrows.

"It's really out of my hands," I reply. He smiles, watching me as I turn around and go inside.


	35. Chapter 35

That night I have a crazy dream. I've had some pretty messed up dreams since Jamie died. At first, they were almost every night. Always about headlights and screaming. In this one, Jamie appears, and she's dancing. Growing up, we took dance lessons together. Eventually she goes to focus on ballet only, while I dabbled in jazz and hip hop. It was so weird, because she was always so exuberant, but with ballet, she became this graceful dancer.

In the dream she's in her typical ballet outfit-cropped pants and a loose-fitting top-and she's just dancing in a room full of mirrors. Then the room slowly disappears, and she's dancing on the freeway. I'm yelling at her to look; to get off the road. She just smiles at me, doing pirouette after pirouette, and then a truck starts racing towards her. It's dark blue and huge. It's the same truck from that night. I'm screaming, but she won't listen. She just laughs and spins until the truck hits her and I scream and all I can see are ballet slippers, lying on the road. Everywhere.

I wake up to Mom pushing hair from my forehead, hushing me and telling me it's alright.

I sit up quickly, but I can't catch my breath. I realize my face is soaked with tears.

"You're okay, baby girl. Breathe...deep breaths, baby...come on," Mom soothes. She cups my face and tries to get me to look at her.

"She was dancing, on the freeway. And the truck, the same one, it came speeding towards her and she wouldn't move! She just kept doing pirouettes, one after another, and she kept laughing and-" I try to breathe.

Mom listens, understands immediately.

"You're okay," she whispers, hugging me and rubbing my back as I cling to her. "Just a bad dream...you're okay. Breathe, sugar."

I haven't had a nightmare that intense in awhile. When I finally calm down, Mom pulls back and looks at me, wiping tears from my face.

"Lie down, baby."

I do, and she lies behind me, stroking my hair. I don't fall asleep, but she does, eventually, and I get up and click on my desk lamp, furiously writing the song lyrics I've been writing in my head. I need piano, not guitar.

I wait until at least 6:00 because I go downstairs and sit at the piano. I'm not sure when they get there, but when I finish the song for the third time, finally happy with it, I see Mom and Dad near the entrance to the room. Mom has teary eyes and Dad has this look he gets whenever Mom or I are in pain. Like he himself hurts, too.

"That's beautiful, baby," Mom says softly.

"Really, honey. It's incredible," Dad nods.

I don't say anything, and they slowly walk into the room.

"I took her for granted," I say quietly, staring at the piano keys.

"Oh, darlin'. No," Mom comes and sits on the piano bench, while Dad kneels in front of the bench and turns me to face him, his hands on my knees.

"You've never taken a person for granted in your entire life," he looks me in the eye.

"I just..." my eyes sting. "I miss her so much."

Mom hugs me tightly. "I know, baby."

When she lets go I turn around and play the song again, and again. Then I play Konstantine.

I get up from the bench and go upstairs. I hear Dad say my name but I keep going, into my room. I turn the shower on, too hot, and sit in the bottom of the tub, letting the hot water sluice over my skin.

I don't know how long I sit there. It must be awhile because suddenly I hear Mom. "Kati? Baby? Are you okay?"

She pokes her head around the curtain and sees me.

"Kati, your skin!" she gasps, and slams the water off.

I look down at my arms, folded over my knees, and see the welts, bright red and angry.

"Baby, you almost burned it." She turns on lukewarm water and, sitting on the lip of the tub, she takes a washcloth and squeezes water over my heated skin.

"I'm sorry," I say, so quiet.

"It's okay, baby," she replies, and I can hear in her voice that she hurts, too. But her pain stems from mine.

She wraps me in a towel like I'm small again, except now we're the same height, so I don't look up at her, thinking nothing can hurt me as long as she's here. I know better now.

She hands me my robe and makes me come downstairs, where she settles the two of us onto the couch with blankets and pillows. She puts Dirty Love on, knowing it always makes me laugh.

It doesn't work today, but it almost makes me smile. Dad comes home (I didn't know he'd left) and puts a rootbeer slushie in my hands. He kisses my forehead and watches the movie. He's such a nerd and laughs so crazy that I can't help but laugh softly at him.

After, he drops a hand onto my knee.

"Paintball," he says.

It's not a question. I smile and nod, needing the physical exertion and focus.

Mom opts to stay home, kissing my forehead as we leave.

"Have fun, sugar."

Dad and I play two rounds, winning both of them, and on the way home he decides we need PinkBerry.

"You realize the only foods I've ingested today have been made from sugar and ice, right?" I say, as he pulls into the parking lot.

"I'm like, the coolest dad ever," he says in his valley-girl voice.

"For a pediatrician, you're seriously lacking in diet and nutrition knowledge."

He laughs and wraps an arm around my neck, headlocking me until I laugh and shriek for him to stop.

We get large cups, lime sorbet for me and strawberry yogurt for him, and sit on a picnic table, watching people walk their dogs.

He doesn't say anything about Jamie, or the dream. He knows I don't want to talk about it, and it makes me so grateful that he knows me so well. Knowing I'll talk when I'm ready.

I look up at him and smear sorbet on his nose. He looks at me, trying to look serious, but laughs and dabs a dollop of whipped cream on my nose. I wipe it off, laughing, and he wraps an arm around me, kisses my forehead, and we sit and eat and I feel better.


	36. Chapter 36

I'm glad for my week to start, forcing me to focus on essays, Spanish verbs and historical dates. Silas is supportive, seeing me quiet, and probably wondering if I'm okay, because I didn't respond to his texts on Sunday.

"Sorry," I say. "Yesterday was kind...hectic."

"Everything okay? You look kinda faraway."

I hesitate, but he doesn't buy my wave of the hand.

"Hey," he looks at me. Questioning.

"I just...I had a really messed up dream. About Jamie," I confess.

He reaches over and squeezes my hand. "Sometimes they feel too real, hey? Like the person is really there."

I nod, suddenly wondering how many of my friends have had or do have dreams about Jamie.

'It'll get easier. I promise," he says, concerned.

"I know," I reply quietly, adjusting my books.

"Walk you to class?" he smiles.

He walks me to English, stopping outside the door to kiss me.

"See you at lunch?"

"Sure," I nod, and turn to go into the classroom.

I go to the practice after school and meet Mom in her office.

"I've gotta run to the hospital, darlin'," she says, hurriedly grabbing her jacket and purse.

"Okay," I sigh. "I'll be here."

"Hey," she frowns, putting her other arm into her jacket and walking towards me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I shake my head. "Tired."

She stares at me, but I don't offer anything else.

"Really, Mom."

Not convinced, she still has to run. She kisses my cheek and rushes out. I dump my book bag on the couch and go to the kitchen, where Addison is concocting something green in the blender.

"Hey!" she smiles. "Want some?"

"Ooo, I would, except...I don't want to," I scrunch my nose.

"Hey, it's totally healthy."

"As were the snot and baby vomit I made in my own blender this morning," I reply sarcastically.

"I like you," she smiles approvingly. "You're quick."

"It's the fine breeding," I say, as Dad walks in.

"Who's breeding?" he demands, so on edge now when it comes to anything regarding sex.

"Hippos and elephants," I reply with a straight face as Addison pushes a bowl of almonds towards me. "They're gonna call them hippopelephants."

"Seriously?" he pauses while reaching for a water.

Addison and I just stare at him.

"Not seriously," he answers himself. "So, gorgeous daughter of mine. How was school?"

"I've decided to rethink my current path and revert to a Kerouac-esque lifestyle. Explore this vast country of ours."

"Over my cold, dead body," he smiles. I smile back.

"It was good. I got an A+ on that calc test."

"Nice," he holds up a hand. I high-five him and we do the exploding fist finish.

"Ugh," Addison makes a face. "Calculus. I hated calculus."

"As do I," I agree. "Which is why I beat it mercilessly."

"Your child is very combative, Cooper," she looks at Dad.

"Very beneficial on the paintball course," he replies, nodding.

"Have you ever delivered a Harlequin baby?" I ask.

"Interesting topic change," Addison frowns, confused. "And no." She sips her drink. "Thankfully."

"Do you know anyone who has? Or what about a thalidomide baby?"

"I thought I talked to you, like, six years ago about your choice of bedtime story?" she looks at Dad.

"She likes to read," he shrugs. "Who am I to quell such a hobby?"

She rolls her eyes. "One of my professors delivered a thalidomide baby. Truncated limbs...I saw a picture...looked like the baby had a thumb growing out of one of his feet, too."

"Have you ever seen someone with a parasitic twin?"

"No. Not very common here," she answers. She looks at me carefully. "You're going to end up specializing in diseases or abnormalities, aren't you."

It's more of a statement than a question.

"I'm still leaning towards ortho," I reply, sitting down when I realize I've been on my knees on the chair, leaning forward with interest. I shrug. "I've got time."

Dad leaves to see a patient, kissing my forehead as he leaves.

"So. How's that guy?" Addison smiles, raising her eyebrows.

"Muammar Gaddafi? I'm pretty they found him, dead."

"Uh...no," she frowns. "The one who stares at you like you invented beer, or skateboards, or whatever high school guys love. The one your dad Dad glares to himself about."

I laugh. "Silas."

"That's the one."

"He's good," I shrug.

"I see," she nods. "And when will you be telling your father that he's your boyfriend?"

I stare at her. Mom is the same way; she just knows things.

Addison smiles and nods, taking another drink.

I laugh, shaking my head.

"He's cute," she says. "I like his nerdy vibe."

"Yeah, he's cool. It's not really anything right now. Who knows, maybe it'll just blow over."

"Oh, he's eating right out of your hand, isn't he," she stares at me. She nods, looking at me with admiration and approval.

"Well played, sister."

The next day during break I go to the girl's room in the east wing. It's always empty and I just want to be alone for a few minutes. I've had terrible sleeps ever since Saturday and I'm starting to get cranky. I don't want to end up being bitchy to anyone, so I go into the bathroom and sit on the sink counter. I sigh, rubbing my forehead, exhaling slowly.

Mom was fussing over me this morning, saying I looked pale and should stay home, but I brushed her off, saying I couldn't miss my Spanish exam.

I bask in the silence until I hear a quiet sound, almost like a gurgle. Curious, I hop off the sink and bend over, peering at the floor of every stall. In the corner stall, there's a sweater bundled up and stuffed against the wall.

"Hello?" I say.

There's no reply so I gently push the stall door. It swings open. As I get closer to the sweater, my breath sharply intakes. There's blood all over the sweater, and there's a tiny hand visible.

I turn and look around be, but I am, of course, alone. My heart bangs loudly against my chest and I tell myself to just calm down and _think_. I get closer, reach down and gently pick up the bundle, terrified that what I heard were last breaths. I swallow, hard, and set the baby on the counter. I uncover the little face. It's pale. Not blue, but unnaturally pale. Whoever did this cut the cord, but I'm not sure what with.

I glance into the trash can beside the counter and, barely visible, I see part of a bloody purple mass: the placenta. Quickly, I grab my bag, cradle the baby and leave as fast as I can. Maybe I should call an ambulance, but my gut is telling me to run; to not risk waiting. The baby is totally the wrong color.

I hurry out a side door. No one sees me.

I rush to the parking lot and toss my bag into the backseat of my car. Carefully I lay my hoodie on the passenger seat, gently setting the baby, a little boy, on top. I don't remove the bloody fleece sweater he's wrapped in, afraid of making him feel colder for even a second. It's grossly hot out today, but I turn the heat on anyways, and drive as fast as I think I can get away with. I put my right hand on the baby's chest, making sure I can still feel a heartbeat, regardless of how weak it is.

I tap the screen on my console and tell it to call Dad.

"Hi, honey," he says after a couple rings.

"Dad! I need you, I'm driving to St. Ambrose and-are you there? At the hospital, I mean?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetie, what's going on?"

"Is she okay?" I hear Mom demand in the background.

"I found a baby. He was in the bathroom, just lying on the floor, and wrapped in this sweater. Somebody just left him there! And he's pale, not pink, he's not pink at all, and I-" I try to breathe, but I'm terrified and juiced on adrenaline.

"Kati, honey, you need to breathe. Stay calm, concentrate on driving. We'll meet you at the hospital," he says calmly.

"Addison! Get Addison!"

"I will. We'll be there in five minutes."

"Okay," I reply, and end the call.

I put my hand back on the baby's chest, counting the beats until I reach St. Ambrose.

I pick up the baby and race inside, through Emergency. Mom, Dad and Addison hurry over.

"His heart rate's only 97," I gasp, as Addison reaches for him.

"He's so pale, not blue, is pale worse? I can't-"

"Sweetie, you did an amazing job. You need to let me take him, okay?" Addison gently tells me.

I realize I'm clutching the bundle tightly.

"I turned the heat on. I know it's hot out, but I didn't want him to be cold."

She gets him from my arms. "You did great, Kati." She turns and places him on a waiting gurney.

"Are you okay?" Dad asks, and I realize Mom is gripping my arm, staring at me.

I nod, breathing heavily. "Will you go? Will you make sure he doesn't..."

He kisses my forehead. "I'll go," he says, hurrying after Addison.

"Sit down, baby," Mom say, pushing me carefully down into a seat. "Take a deep breath."

"He was on the floor. In a _bathroom_!" I say, disbelief all over my face. "If I hadn't heard him...who can just leave a baby like that?" I shake my head, staring at nothing.

"I don't know, darlin'. But you did an incredible job. You managed to get him here, alive. You knew his heart rate...gonna make a fine doctor someday."

She rubs my back, looking proud and worried all at once.

"How do you do that everyday?"

"Every day is different, darlin'."

We sit for a few minutes until I'm not breathing erratically.

"Come on. I need some lunch," Mom says, and we start to walk towards the cafeteria.

"Can I see him? I mean, now?" I stop, looking at her. She considers.

I've obviously seen patients before, but never _during _anything. Addison says that when I'm 17 she'll sneak me in to watch a few surgeries.

'Won't be easy, sugar," Mom advises, but she won't treat me like a child, saying I can't see it.

"I know," I reply seriously.

She nods and leads me down a restricted hallway, her hand on my back.

We come to a procedure room and I see Dad, Addison and a couple of nurses working on the baby.

"What do you think she cut the cord with?" I ask, after a very deep breath. I can't falter-this is what I want to_ be. _

"I'm not sure, sugar. Looks like it was clipped. Maybe torn."

I swallow and nod. Dad sees us and comes out.

"He's gonna be okay," he says. I sigh. "He's dehydrated and weak, but he's a little fighter."

Mom rubs my back.

"I have to call the police. They're going to want to talk to you, honey, so you'll have to hang around."

I nod.

"Why don't we go for lunch, sugar? You should eat," Mom says.

Dad promises to come find us after he makes some calls, so Mom and I go to the cafeteria and take lunch out to the patio area.

"Any idea whose baby it might be?"

I shake my head. "I've been pretty stuck in my own head," I reply. "I'm always in class, or in a book, or with my friends. And no one I know directly is-was, pregnant."

"Some girls can hide it well," he replies. "I wasn't really showing with you until five months. I mean, enough so that people would notice. Loose tops covered my belly. But you were so tiny. Barely five pounds," she smiles.

"Then why could you eat enough for three people?" Dad appears, grinning and pulling out a chair. He sets a sandwich and bottle of water down as Mom looks at him.

"I beg your pardon," she tries to look insulted, reaching over and smacking his shoulder.

"Ow," he laughs. "It's true! Where do you think Kati gets her appetite? Especially for pralines and fried chicken?"

"Mmm," I nod. "And Alabama Lane Cake."

"Oh, child, now you're talkin'," Mom smiles.

'How is he?" I ask Dad.

'Good. Stable," Dad nods. "Police are coming down, and I called the school. Dean Kim is all over it. She wants you to know she's proud of quickly you acted." He smiles. And after a second, he adds, "God, I'd hate to be on the wrong side of that woman."

"I like her," Mom replies.

"Of course you do. You're the same kind of scary." Dad says.

She rolls her eyes at him but can't hide her smile.

"He's going to end up in foster care, isn't he," I state.

"We can't say for sure, baby. Maybe the biological grandparents will step in."

"Yeah, right," I reply. "We all know that majority of Chadwick students come from extremely snobby stock."

"That's true," Dad agrees. "Terrifying PTA meetings..."

'Exactly. Not one of those Real Housewives wants her reputation soiled with a teenage mother for a child," I mutter.

"Whoa," Mom frowns. "Take it down a notch, Emily the Strange. Don't let this get you so down. On the bright side, he's a healthy newborn. Newborns are always the first to go, when it comes to adoption. I'm sure someone out there is just prayin' for that phone call to tell them that a baby is ready for 'em."

I consider this, and nod. Dad looks up and nods, holding up a hand to someone.

Mom and I look over and see two policemen being pointed towards us by a nurse.

Mom reaches over and squeezes my hand.

"Relax, baby. Just tell them what happened."

I nod and Dad stands up. He greets the men who then turn to Mom and I introduce themselves as Lieutenant Holland and Officer Radison.

"This is my wife, Dr. Freedman, and our daughter, Kate," Dad introduces. We shake their hands as Dad drags over an extra chair so they can both sit down.

"This must be a difficult day for you, Kate," Holland smiles kindly. He reminds me of Cranston, which helps me relax.

"Can you tell me what happened? In as much detail as possible?"

I take a breath. "Well, um, I was on break. I remember it was 10:44 because I checked my phone in case my parents had called. Uh...I went to the east wing girl's room because it's always empty, and I was tired. I just wanted to be alone and have it be quiet for a few minutes. I was sitting on the sink and I heard a sound, like a gurgle kind of, y'know? I bent down to look into each stall and I saw him. I mean, I saw the sweater he was wrapped in. I thought it was just a sweater, until I..." I swallow, my mouth getting dry. "I opened the stall door and saw his little hand. And blood all over the sweater. I just...I picked him up and I checked him, to see if he still had a cord attached, but it was cut. I'm not sure what they used, but it looked kind of jagged and I was scared it was getting infected. The, um, the placenta...it's still in the trash can. I saw part of it...Anyway, I wrapped him back up and I left. I ran to my car with him and came here. Maybe I should have called the police, but I just wanted to get him here. He was such a weird color, I thought he was going to die. I just wanted Addison to help him."

I swallow, realizing my eyes are glistening with unshed tears. Mom rubs my back.

"You did the right thing, Kate," he says somberly. "Normally, of course we'd say to call the police, but I think your quick actions may have saved that little boy."

He looks at Mom, nods. "Got yourself a smart girl there, ma'am," he says.

"I sure do," she smiles, brushing behind my ear.

"Dr. Montgomery said you kept him warm enough, monitored his heart rate as your drove here?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "I don't know many teenagers that could handle that. You gonna be a doctor like your parents?"

"That's the plan," I reply. "Someday."

"You've definitely got it in you," he says. "You should be proud."

I'm not sure what to say, so I don't say anything, and he seems to be okay with this.

He smiles in a fatherly way and gets up. He shakes hands with me and then Mom, and then finally Dad.

"You have my card," he says to all of us. "If we need you, Kate, we'll call. But feel free to let me know if there's anything else, okay?"

I nod, and he politely nods at all of us and they leave.


	37. Chapter 37

Mom and Dad both have patients and work to do, so I stay in Mom's office at the hospital and try to focus on homework.

After a blissful hour of silence, in which I finished an essay I'd been working on since last week, I hear loud voices and then the door opens and Mom is holding it open for someone.

It turns out to be a small group. I recognize three girls from school. They're all sophomores, and one of them, I'm pretty sure, is only 15. I think the other four people must be their parents.

"Everyone just take a seat," Mom orders. The only father present looks at me.

"Is this your daughter?" he asks rudely, jutting his chin towards me. "She can't be here."

"_She _found the baby. Dyin' on the floor of a bathroom, wrapped in a bloody sweater," she fires back. The girls eye me. Two of them look scared and the other just looks like a snob.

Everybody starts to sit down, and I move my bag so Mom can sit beside me.

"According to Dean Kim, you three are the only people who were near that bathroom all morning," Mom says, hard-faced and with a look that clearly states she will not be taking any bullshit.

"Well, _she _obviously was," the snobby girl flicks her head towards me.

"As I just stated, Miss Brown, my daughter _found _the baby. And she most certainly didn't give birth."

This is the side of Mom that makes people call her a bitch and fear her. And I kind of love it, especially when the girl clamps her mouth shut, looking wary of Mom.

Ashley! That's her name. Ashley Brown. She and the other two try to show up to parties. They never get into Axel's, but I've seen them at other parties in the past.

Addison arrives, the same business-only look on her face.

"I'm Dr. Montgomery," she says, coming to sit on the other side of me. She stares at the other couch and two chairs of people. "The baby is my patient. He's okay, for now, if any of your care."

She's pissed, like Mom, and has a way of being intimidating when she wants to be. Not on the same level as Mom, obviously.

"It's not our baby," one of the girls says.

"Yeah. Do we look like the kind of girls who'd leave a baby in a bathroom?" the other asks.

I know now that they are Chelsea Bell and Elisabeth Marque. Their names pop into my head.

Addison sighs, irritated.

"Do you understand that this baby almost died? If anything happens to him, it is _your _fault. That's on you. Now I need to know whose baby he is now. Now. The mother could have internal damage, excessive bleeding...whoever it was, needs medical treatment."

"This is ridiculous. I'm taking Chelsea home," the man stands up.

"Do that, Mr. Bell, and I will have you arrested before you reach the parking lot," Addison shoots back.

He glares. "Can't you just do the blood tests again?"

"To what, give us the same results? They were inconclusive. Any of the girls could be the mother."

"Well then do a physical exam!"

"It's illegal, without consent, Mr. Bell. And it could have traumatic effects, especially if the girl is a virgin. There could be bleeding, tearing...you need to tell me now, whose baby he is."

"Well it's not my Elisabeth. No one can stay that slim while pregnant," Mrs. Marque snaps.

The women start bickering until Addison yells at them to stop.

"Who are they children here?" she looks at the parents in disgust. "You know what, come here."

She grabs Chelsea and Elisabeth by the arms and yanks them up before pulling Ashley out of her chair as well. They protest, telling her to let go, but she pushes all three girls out the door. Mr. and Mrs. Bell start to follow but Mom tells them to wait.

"Let Dr. Montgomery do her job," she sighs. "One of your girls could need serious medical care. And that little boy needs to be thought of."

She's irritated and I can't blame her.

"You're Kate Freedman," Mrs. Brown says, out of nowhere.

I look up. "Yes," I say after a moment.

"Oh," Mrs. Marque says, frowning. "The girl who was in that car accident."

I nod slowly, feeling uncomfortable.

"I was sorry to hear about that," Mrs. Brown says kindly. She's a tired-looking woman with blue eyes and brown hair pulled away from her face. I imagine Ashley is hell for her to deal with. And I think she is the one who gave birth to that baby. Aside from the fact that she usually would show up at parties wearing the skimpiest clothes possible and make several trips to a bedroom, she is the only girl who sat leaning forward the entire time, just now. As though sitting normally was too painful. I wonder if Mom noticed this, too.

I look at this sad-looking woman and nod my gratitude at her kindness.

"Where did that doctor take the girls?" Mr. Bell demands impatiently.

"Well, I imagine to see the baby," Mom glowers.

Everyone is quiet, and the silence is getting awkward.

About ten minutes later, Addison comes back with the girls. Ashley is crying.

"What? What happened?" Mr. Bell demands, but Mrs. Brown closes her eyes and inhales.

"You can go," Addison says quietly to Chelsea and Elisabeth. The Bells leave quickly. Mrs. Marque sets a hand gently on Mrs. Brown's shoulder as she leaves, guiding Elisabeth out.

Addison closes the door.

"The police are waiting to speak with you and your daughter, Mrs. Brown," she says.

They stand up and the door is opened by a police officer.

Ashley pauses before leaving, and looks over at me. The snobby girl who came in here has been replaced by a sad, terrified one.

"Please...don't tell anyone." Tears rolls down her cheeks.

I shake my head. "It's not my business to tell," I reply softly. She nods and follows her mom and the cop.

Addison closes the door and signs, sitting down and rubbing her forehead.

'God. That woman already looks beaten...now she's a daughter heading to juvie and a grandson to take care of." She looks deflated.

"She'll go to juvie?" I ask. Mom rubs my back.

"She'll have to. Her actions almost killed her baby."

We all sigh and lean back into the couch, sitting in silence.

Mom tells me that I have to stay home tomorrow, over dinner. I look up but she shakes her head, meaning it's decided.

"You're exhausted. You haven't slept since Saturday, and now this. You need some rest, baby girl, otherwise, you'll only feel worse."

I peel some fried chicken off the bone. "Alright."

"Bright side?" Dad looks at me. "My kid saved someone's _life _today."

He looks so happy and proud, I have to smile.

"Not your average weekday," I say.

"Well," Dad says, acting all macho. "If you're the greatest pediatrician in the state of California and quite possibly the entire country..."

He looks at Mom and I expectantly, his hands up by his chest.

Mom throws a balled-up napkin at him and we laugh at him.

"Alright. Let's...do nothing. Watch a movie. Anything good out?" Dad says.

"Actually that one with Emma Stone about the maids looks really good," Mom replies, getting up and gathering plates.

"Yeah, _The Help_," I say. "I wanted to see that."

"Settled," Mom nods.

"I need to shower first," I say, getting up from the table. "There's probably placenta fluid on me."

They both go to the work the next morning, but Mom promises to be home early, and tells me I should try to sleep as much as possible.

I try, but I get out of bed around 10:00 because I've been lying here dozing and can't actually fall back asleep.

I go downstairs with my favorite purple blanket and flop onto the couch with Nigel.

After an hour of Maury and cooking shows, I flip on my karaoke machine. Jamie and I used to drive my parents crazy with this thing.

I take a cordless mic and flop back onto the couch. I sing Your Song by Elton John, holding Nigel's face as he looks at me, clearly unimpressed. I sing Groove is in the Heart, by Deelite, and am draped across the couch, my legs hooked over the top of it and one arm falling onto the ground, singing Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis when the door opens, but I don't hear it.

After dramatically singing the last note, I let me head fall so I'm basically upside down, and notice Mom and Addison standing at the end of the couch holding takeout and staring at me, eyebrows raised.

"Oh. Hey," I say, giving a lazy wave.

"Hey," they reply, amused.

"Just...an average Wednesday for ya?" Addison shrugs.

"Basically. I tried to serenade Nigel, but it seems that his music tastes have changed."

"I mean, you sound amazing. I'm just not sure belting one out, upside down with your head falling off the couch is proper singing posture," Addison adds, as they drape their coats on the coat rack and drop their purses onto the island in the kitchen.

"I think we'll leave that up to Simon Cowell," I reply.

"So, sleeping in didn't really play out? "Mom asks, coming to touch my hair and look at me closely. "You're still pale. You look tired. You need to sleep!"

She points at me and kisses my forehead, going to help Addison get plates and forks.

"Come outside," she gestures.

I roll out from under the blanket and Addison stares at me.

"Are you wearing legwarmers?"

"Yes," I glance down at the fuschia wool.

"Neon-green shorts, Star Wars shirt, and pink legwarmers," she nods, looking me over.

"They are fuschia," I reply, as though she's silly for saying pink.

"And I am starvin'!" Mom calls from outside.


	38. Chapter 38

I'm not one of those people who walks around with their cell phone attached to their hip, so I tend to forget about it and find it somewhere six hours later. After takeout with Mom and Addison and then hanging out with them for a bit, I go sing karaoke by myself for a bit while they work outside on the deck.

I go upstairs to shower and see my phone light up. I haven't checked it since this morning, and I see three texts from Silas, one from Axel and one from Jenelle. Silas' start out normal, just saying hey and asking where I am, but the third message says, 'Hey! I asked where you are?'. It seems kind of rude. Lately he's been wanting to hang out every single day, and I just have too much to do and not enough time to be with him that much. I mean, I like Silas. We've been friends for years, but I'm not in love with him or anything. I love hanging out with him, and he was my first real kiss. I just wish he wouldn't get mad at me for having other things going on in my life.

I reply, telling him that I stayed home sick today, and he responds within seconds, before I even have time to type 'hey' in my response to Jenelle's message. He says that I could have at least told him I was staying home.

I'm not really into how he's being, so I drop the phone on my bed after texting Axel back and head into the shower.

After, there are two more texts from Silas, telling me to text him later because he wants to come by. I message back that I have plans with my parents and I'll see him tomorrow, and I must have a frown on my face because, from the doorway, Mom suddenly speaks.

"What's that face for?"

"Oh," I say, looking up and seeing her for the first time. "Silas. He's mad at me...or something...I dunno. He thinks I should have told him I wasn't going to school today?"

I pose it as a question, because I'm confused. This whole girlfriend/boyfriend thing is new to me, and I have no idea what it entails.

"Ah," Mom nods, coming in and sitting on the bed to pet Nigel. "So he _is _your boyfriend."

"I don't know, what does that even mean? I have fun hanging out with him, and I like him, but I mean...I don't...want to be controlled or something."

"And you shouldn't be," Mom says seriously. "First relationships are interesting. You have to kind of set the rules for yourselves, based on your own morals. What do you think you want? From him?"

I think about this, looking away from her and into nothing. "I don't know. I just thought it would be like it always has been. Hang out, play paintball...make out sometimes?"

"And you think he expected something else?"

"We're 16, Mom. Everyone seems to expect something else."

"Well," Mom begins, and I can tell she's going to worry about this now. "Just be clear, sugar. You know what you want. Don't go thinkin' you have to change for someone."

"I know," I breathe.

But it's not a conversation I want to have. I just wish Silas would be the way he was during the past while.

The rest of the week goes by quickly, as I bury myself in homework. Silas yo-yos between seeming angry and then seeming fine, and asking me to hang out. On Saturday we go to the pier for a bit, and he acts like nothing weird happened during the week, so I drop it, thinking maybe he just had a bad week, too. We sit on a dock and dangle our feet, like we did the last time we were here, and he kisses me again, but with everything that's happened, I don't feel the butterflies as intensely, and I'm starting to wonder if this is all too much. Maybe I'm just not good girlfriend material right now.

At school on Monday, he clings to me at lunch when Axel sits next to me. I shrug off his hand several times because he gets the hint, but then storms off to go inside. I look at Axel questioningly, but he just shrugs.

"Don't stress about it, girl. Kid's never had a real girlfriend. Just short flings, or whatever. I guess the jealousy is new?"

I shrug, but I hate how becoming "official", or however you want to put it, has changed everything.

"Well, this isn't exactly what I had in mind," I reply quietly. He squeezes my shoulders, understanding.

"Maybe you guys were better just friends," he suggests.

"I've been wondering that, too," I nod.

A few days later, after lunch, as I'm walking to tennis, Silas hurries up to me in the hallway.

"Hey," he breathes.

"Hey," I reply.

"Are you mad at me or something?"

I frown. "I'm not mad, you just seem a little off lately. But maybe we both had hard weeks or something."

"Yeah," he nods, but I look at him, confused. That's not an explanation at all.

"Well, is something wrong?" I reiterate.

"No, I just don't...like sharing you."

"Sharing me?"

"Yeah. With Axel and everyone."

"Axel and I have been friends since kindergarten," I say, annoyed. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, if you want to be with him, then you should just go do it," he snaps.

Floored, I stare at him like he's got an extra forehead. "What?"

"Look," he says, seeming to rethink himself. "I just mean, it's better when it's just you and me. Don't you think so? Can't we just hang out by ourselves from now on? I mean, we see everyone else at school. Why do you need to see Axel all the time?"

"Axel's my friend. He always has been. I'm not about to ditch him, and you shouldn't think that, anyways. He's your friend, too. Why would you just want to alienate yourself from everyone?"

"I just want to be with you," he says firmly.

I hold my palms up. "We...are," I say, but I'm confused. "We're together. But that doesn't mean I'm going to ditch everyone else."

"I didn't realize I meant so little," he spits, and turns on his heel and storms away.

I stand there, completely confused, until the warning bell rings and I have to run to get to tennis.

On Wednesday, I stay home with a headache, but when I get to school on Thursday, Silas is in the parking lot.

"Hey," he says flatly, coming to my car door as I'm getting out.

"Hey," I reply.

"So, what was with yesterday?"

I stare at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could have told me you weren't coming to school." He looks angry.

"Um," I frown, slinging my bag over my shoulder, confused. "Why?"

"Because you're my girlfriend," he retorts, his face not softening.

"Look, Silas," I begin. "I understand that we're 'exclusive' or whatever, but we've never actually talked about what that means...I'm not...I mean, I like you. Obviously. We've been friends for years. But it's senior year. I have a _lot _going on. I have to prioritize things, and...well, school is topping that list."

He nods slowly, looking away. "So, what? You don't want to be my girlfriend?"

"I never said that. I just want you to know that I can't promise you the kind of relationship that Chase and Norah used to have, or something."

(Chase used to date a girl named Norah who ended up moving to Delaware when her father got transferred or something. They were that inseparable high-school couple who were together every moment, and were actually having sleepovers and promising each other to be together forever. It's not my style, and anyway, how can anyone have time for it?)

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snaps.

"It means...I can't hang out every day. If my grades drop, my parents will slaughter me. You've seen my schedule. I'm swamped."

"Well I'm sorry not everyone can take all AP courses."

My face contorts in confusion. "What? Regardless of whether or not you're taking AP classes, your semester is packed, no matter who you are. And I care too much about Berkeley to mess it up. I'm sorry."

He looks angry, but he doesn't reply immediately.

"Well...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I just thought we felt the same way about each other."

"I never said I didn't like you," I say. "I just...have a lot going on."

He nods and I start to walk, towards the school.

"I'll see you at lunch?" he asks, as we near the door and I head towards it, while he turns towards our friends on the lawn.

"Yeah," I nod, and give him a forced smile.

I exhale deeply once I get inside. What the hell was that?

I try to push it out of my mind as I hurry to class.

At lunch, I find Max first and we find our group at a table outside.

"Hey," Silas smiles, this morning's issue forgotten. "Axel's having people over on Friday."

I nod. "Cool. Should be fun."

"You'll come?" he asks.

"Sure," I shrug. "For a bit."

He nods and puts an arm around me, tightly circling my waist. I move to sit down beside Axel, and Silas quickly sits on my other side.

Axel and I walk towards his class after lunch, and I take the opportunity to grill him.

"Hey, what's with Silas?"

"Aw, he being all weird and shit?"

"Yeah. He actually got mad at me for not telling him I was staying home yesterday. And he's been very...I dunno. Clingy?"

"Dude's jealous," Axel shakes his head.

"Of what?" I ask, confused. Axel and Silas have been friends for years, and even he seems irritated by him right now.

Axel chuckles. "Me."

"What?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Yeah, he was gettin' all tense and shit. Asking me if we've ever been more than friends, because he doesn't like how much we hang out."

"Are you serious?"

Axel nods, rolling his eyes. "I dunno what's up with him. I mean, I know he had a jealous streak with that summer fling he had last year, what was her name...Natalia? Anyway, he got all weird with her too. Maybe he's got some trust issues or something. Dude needs to relax."

I frown; none of this makes sense.

"But...you and I have been friends since...birth."

"Yeah, well," Axel shrugs. "I dunno what's goin' on in his head. Don't let it bother you, girl. Boy doesn't own you. I mean, I understand being protective of your girl, but..."

He shrugs again and I nod. "Yeah...thanks for telling me."

He holds his fist out and I bump it before heading off to tennis.


	39. Chapter 39

I'm stationed at the island in the kitchen, surrounded by French, Spanish and calculus when Mom and Dad get home from work together.

"Hey, baby," Mom smiles, kissing my forehead. "How was your day?"

"Good," I nod, and Dad comes to kiss me too. "How about you guys?"

"Ah, not much. Pretty basic day: colds, stomach aches and a couple vaccinations."

"Well I had a 23-year-old patient with the worst bladder infection I've ever seen. Girl's kidneys were screamin' for help."

"Attractive," I nod.

Mom starts pulling out stuff for dinner, so I chat with her while Dad goes to shower and she makes vegetarian lasagna.

"So, hey," I start, fidgeting with my pen. Mom and I have never had to have relationship conversations before. I'm not scared, it's just new. "You remember how we were talking about Silas yesterday?"

"Mmhmm," Mom replies, dropping lasagna noodles into boiling water.

"He's being really...weird. Axel told me today that he's actually jealous. Of Axel and me, being friends."

"What?" Mom frowns at me. "There's room for a teaspoon of jealousy in a relationship and nothin' more. A little bit, is normal. If he's trying to control who you see and are friends with, then that, sugar, is a red flag."

"I know," I reply. "He just didn't seem like this before."

Mom shrugs. "Men work in mysterious ways. If he can't handle your friendships, then the boy's got a hell of a lot of growing up to do. Trust is the main thing in any relationship, and respect is right behind it."

"Yeah. I just don't get why he'd think for even a second that he couldn't trust me. I would never cheat on someone."

"I know you wouldn't, baby. Try not to let his immaturity get you down. Just be you. Do what you think is right. That's all you can you."

I nod, watching her cut vegetables. After a few minutes of silence, she stops cutting and looks at me.

"Sugar, how do you feel about him? Really?"

I shrug. "It's Silas. I've known him for years. Of course I like him. But I mean...I'm not in love with him or something. I just wanted what we already had...hanging out and stuff. But he seems to want...I'm not sure. I think he thought we'd be one of those joined-at-the-hip couples. But I don't have time for that much! I mean, I'm barely fitting in school, let alone friends, right now."

"You know what you want, baby girl. And don't go lettin' him make you feel guilty for any of it."

She looks at me pointedly until I nod. "I know."

I sigh and then change the subject to winter holidays, and how excited I am for snowboarding, until we sit down to eat and Dad regales us with the story of the seven-month-old boy who peed in his face today when Dad went to give him an examination.

"Nice aim," I comment, nodding.

"Happens all the time with little boys," Dad laughs.

"Better than vomit, I guess," I smile.

Mom laughs. "When you were just a few months old, you threw up right in your daddy's mouth."

She laughs harder, remembering.

"That was not funny," Dad points his fork at her.

"Seriously? In your mouth?" I frown, disgusted.

"Yep. I had just finished feeding you and he comes and picks you up and holds you up. He went to kiss you and-" she blows her cheeks out. "Right in his mouth."

Mom and I laugh as Dad shakes his head, but he can't stifle his smile.

"Wasn't the first time I tasted breast milk. But it was the first time I tasted it as vomit."

"What?" I make a face.

"I was curious!" he defends himself. "Your mom had bottles of it in the fridge and I came home from work one night, probably 4:00 am, and...I was tired! I was thirsty, so I tried it."

"And?" I ask.

"And...it wasn't bad, actually," he shrugs, looking at Mom. "Kind of sweet. Like cantaloupes."

I look at him, pure disgust on my face, shaking my head as Mom chuckles.

"Oh, is it okay if I go to Axel's for a bit tomorrow? He's having some people over," I ask, remembering.

"Sure, honey," Dad replies, after silently checking with Mom with one of their eyes-only conversations.

"Not for long," I shrug. "Just go hang out for a bit."

"Yeah, baby girl, that sounds good. Been a long week, huh?"

I nod. "On Saturday, though, do you want to come with me to Santa Monica? I need a haircut."

"I actually already booked it for you," Mom replies, pointing at nothing as she remembers. "I forgot to mention. Noon on Saturday. I figured we could do mani-pedis, too. Sound good?"

I smile, nodding. "Yeah."

"Uh...hello?"

We look up to see Dad sitting there expectantly.

"Nobody asked me if _I _wanted to come," he curls his lip at us; his valley-girl voice insulted.

"You're playing basketball with Sam and Pete on Saturday," Mom shakes her head, amused.

"Oh, right," Dad replies, in his own voice. "Well, good. I was kidding anyways."

"Neither of us believes that," I reply, straight-faced.

After school the next day, I go to the practice. I want to talk to Addison about Caesarians, since I'm doing a history paper on ancient Roman customs, and want to spend a good portion of it on medicine.

She's already in the kitchen when I arrive, making one of her weird smoothies.

"Hey," she smiles. "How's it going?"

"Good," I sigh, tiredly.

"You look exhausted. Quite the week, hey?"

I nod. "How's the baby?"

"Perfect," she grins. "Well, aside from the fact that his mother's in juvie, but...he's doing great. Ashley's mother has custody, so he's in good hands. No foster care."

She adds this last part pointedly, knowing I was worried about it.

"Good. That would have been so much worse."

"Yeah," she agrees. "Oh! You need that book, don't you?"

"Yeah, I'm going to start my paper tomorrow."

"It's in my office, I'll be right back." She's back within a minute with the heavy textbook.

"Perfect. Thanks. I'm kind of looking forward to eyeing up these disgusting pictures of uteruses and placentas." I start flipping through the book.

"It's a beautiful thing, female reproduction," she smiles, nodding, as though she's the new spokeswoman for gynecology.

"Where?" I ask, making a face.

"Well, beautiful in an abstract way. Unless you ask Dell," she lifts her glass to point at Dell as he walks in.

"Ask Dell what?"

"About the attractive qualities of a bloody uterus," I reply, staring in horror at a picture of a uterus and ovaries after a hysterectomy.

"Ah, yes," he smiles, wistfully.

"Or 'midwifery'," Addison adds with her fingers, mocking him.

"Hey, it's a real word," Dell exclaims.

"He's right," I curl my lip. "I checked."

"I don't like it," she shakes her head.

"How do you feel about afterbirth?" I ask, seeing a photo of a purplish mass.

"Yeah," she makes a face, nodding. "Not pretty, but I appreciate what it does for babies, of course."

"Agreed. But I'm still not on board with the whole 'eating placenta' movement."

"Yeah, that ones a little fuzzy for me, too," Addison agrees.

"It's full of nutrients," Dell puts in. "And it's not like you have to take it home in deli bag and slap it on the grill. Most women have it dried and put into capsules. You don't even taste anything."

"No?" I ask, flipping through and looking solely for photos at this point. "You mean scores of women aren't buying Preserving Placentas: A Modern Guide to Enjoying Your Afterbirth?"

"Is that real?" Addison stares, disgusted.

"Not as far as I know," I reply drily. "But that doesn't mean people aren't going home and frying up some placenchiladas."

Dell spits his water out. "What?" he gasps, staring at me.

"What? Placentil soup? Placendive salad? Placentortellini?"

He laughs, covering his face and looking out through his fingers. "That is the most disgusting thing I've ever heard!"

"Says the midwiferist," Addison grins.

"Now that one is definitely not a word," I point at her. "Placenchiladas could be being served right now, and you'd never know it because all red meat ends up looking brown if it's cooked through. Think about it."

I widen my eyes at her as Mom walks in.

"Think about what?"

"Sending your child to reform school," Dell curls his lip at me, but can't stifle his laughter that's still bubbling up.

"I beg your pardon," Mom says, wide-eyed, but smiling.

"She just came up with an entire menu of placenta-inspired foods," he looks disgusted.

"Placenchiladas?" Mom says knowingly.

"You've heard this?" Dell asks, surprised.

"Well of course I have," Mom replies. "Anything disgusting and medically relevant has been thoroughly researched by her. And the placenta subject was a good week of research, disgusting facts and ideas for ingesting."

"Wow," Addison says, shaking her head at me. "You are a rare breed."

"You're going to end up specializing in something gross, aren't you," Dell states.

"That's what I said," Addison cries, holding up her hands.

"Don't quell her dreams," Mom pretends to scold them. "However disgusting they might be."

Dad gets called to the hospital so Mom and I stop for Thai when she's done work. At home, I change clothes and text back Max and Silas, telling them I'll meet them at Axel's.

"I'm going," I stick my head into the TV room as a swing my jacket on.

"Alright, sugar," Mom gets up from the couch where she's watching The Color Purple with a mug of tea. "Drive safe. Call me if you need me."

She kisses my cheek and I'm out the door.


	40. Chapter 40

It's around 9:30 when I get to Axel's. I park across the street and walk over and into the backyard.

I greet several people as I look around, until I see Axel, Chase, Silas, Max and Jenelle setting up Battleship Shots. I walk over and say hey, as Silas hugs me and kisses me, more firmly than normal. I push him, but he resists so I push harder.

"Hey," I say, clearly implying 'what the hell'?

"Hey," he smiles, and I can tell he's drunk. Although the gin on his breath also gave him away.

I hug Max and Jenelle and notice Silas glare slightly at the ground when Axel pulls me in for a hug.

"Ready to set off some magic tonight?" he smiles hugely. "I got these new sparks, they're huge! I got you one with lots of purple in it, bra."

I smile, nodding my thanks.

Silas takes my hand and smiles. I'm glad he's not angry anymore, so I give him a smile in return.

I watch Max and Jenelle take on Silas and Chase in Battleship, and then play Beersbie with Axel, my trusty raspberry gingerale in hand.

I check my phone around 11:00, realizing I'll have to leave soon to make curfew. I go inside to the washroom and when I come out, Silas is right outside the door.

"Hey," I say, surprised.

"Hey, I was looking for you," he replies, smiling. He's barely audible over the booming music.

"Found me," I say, showing my hands as though I'm guilty of something.

"I was hoping we could talk?"

"Um, sure," I nod slowly.

"In private?"

There aren't a lot of people near us in the hallway, but he pulls my hand and leads me into Axel's older brother's room. Atticus' away at Princeton; only home once in awhile.

He closes the door behind us while I look around the room. Like Axel, Atticus is extremely smart and athletic. His room is full of athletic awards, photos of him with Axel and their little sister, Allegra. I bend down to get a closer look at a photo of the three of them. Axel's parents get professional photos done of their kids every year. This one is a couple years old, Allegra looks only nine or 10. Axel and Atticus are holding her up and she's laughing, her eyes closed and her mouth open in a huge smile. It makes me smile just seeing it. Sometimes I wish I had a little brother or sister.

I'm still smiling at the picture when Silas appears beside me.

"What?"

"Oh, this picture of the three of them. It's really cute," I say, standing up and gesturing to the frame.

Silas just nods.

"So, I'm sorry if I've been kind of...weird, lately."

"Yeah...you've seemed kind of annoyed."

"I'm sorry. Just a bad week, I guess," he shrugs, as if it's nothing.

"I guess we should have talked more about what we expected from each other," I say.

"Well, I get it now. Really."

He looks at me and I nod slowly, and then he leans forward and kisses me. Ever since he's started being weird, I've had to think constantly about how far I should let this go, because I don't want to lead him on if I'm not 100% into it. But I do like him, and this is making me feel so confused. Like I want to keep him at arm's length, and then I start to wonder if I'm just scared of having a boyfriend. I tell myself to shut up, and focus on his lips on mine, and his hands on my waist. His kiss is firm again, like when I first got to the party and he kissed me hard. He backs me up slowly to the bed and I'm forced to sit when he keeps pushing his weight into me.

We're laying down and kissing, and this is the most we've ever even kissed at once. I feel his hands grasp along my outer thigh and up over my butt, up my back. I don't know how drunk he is, but I can taste gin on his lips, and he's never been this forward with me. His hands move forward to my stomach and inch up towards my bra. I start to feel my heart beat faster, and I want to stop and let him keep touching me at the same time. He grabs at me, and I quickly grab one of his wrists, surprised by his grip. Without skipping a beat, he keeps kissing me and his hand moves down towards my stomach again, and then they're at the button of my pants.

I hold his wrist again, but he ignores me and flips the button open with one hand.

"Hey," I say softly, gripping his wrist again. He looks at me, his eyes on fire.

"What?"

"Let's just...slow it down," I say.

"Come on, Kate," he replies, as though brushing away my comment altogether. He reaches for my pants again and shoves his hand down the front, and I think I hear the cotton tear.

"Silas," I say, louder.

The fire in his eyes scalds me when he glares at me and with one quick movement, he has both of my wrists in one of his large hands. Immediately, I know this isn't just making out anymore, and my saying 'no' is not doing anything.

"Silas, let me go," I say sharply, pulling my wrists. But his grip is like a vise.

He grabs for my pants again and yanks the zipper down. My throat is suddenly parched but I try to yell at him to stop anyway. It comes out as a croak that is cut short by the blinding blow he suddenly delivers to my face. The entire left side of my face throbs. I wonder for a second how much more the left side of my head can even take, but the thought is blown away by the knowledge that Silas just hit me. Hard. All I can think about is Mom; her telling me the night of the accident of how she was raped. How she looked when she told me. And suddenly all I can think about is getting out, because I can't think about who I would become if that happened to me, too.

I blink rapidly, feeling dizzy as he tries again to get my pants off. I'm resisting him as much as I can, but he's so strong.

"Shut up," he growls at me through clenched teeth. I fight him, and he hits me again, this time near my mouth. I taste blood, but I don't stop fighting him. Again, he hits me and my eye explodes in pain.

Breathless, I try to breathe and fight at the same time. He's grabbing at my body, fighting to get my pants off, when I manage to get my right hand free. He's so focused on my pants and himself that he doesn't notice. I grasp at Atticus' side table and feel the framed photo. He doesn't see it coming until it's an inch from his forehead, and I smash it across his face. The glass shatters and he drunkenly falls off of me, onto the floor. I jump up, my head spinning, and numbly do up my pants, but I can feel that the fabric is ripped. I don't check to see how much of me is exposed by the rip, I just want to leave. My shirt is torn, too. I glance at the floor, but it's dark and the moonlight barely lets me see. I finally find my bag and grab it, as Silas reaches out and grabs my wrist.

"Bitch," he breathes. But he's so drunk that my hit has left him on the floor, struggling to get up. He won't let go of my wrist, so without thinking I throw my right hand into his face. The pain shoots up my arm but I turn and run, smashing into something on my way. My outer thigh throbs; I clipped the corner of his desk, I think.

I throw open the door and fling my hood over my head, bolting for the front door.

Everyone is too busy and drunk to notice me throw open the front door and slam it on my way out. I breathe heavily and I try to focus on finding my car, but my head is throbbing, I can still taste blood, and my hand is curled awkwardly and I can't move it. I go into Emergency mode and find my car, get in and start it quickly. I hit the gas too hard and take off.


	41. Chapter 41

I can't call Mom. All I can think about as I drive is that Mom was raped. She was beaten within an inch of her life, raped and left for dead. I came so close. It was too close. I feel like I'm watching myself drive, and listening to a voice-over of myself.

_You can't tell Mom. She can't handle this, too. She warned you...she warned you about everything, and now it's all happening. You can't tell Mom..._

I drive, but I feel dizzy. I try to breath, forcing myself to take deeper breaths. I need to get home, and get upstairs and clean myself up. I cannot let Mom or Dad see me. Praying that they won't be awake, downstairs watching TV is useless. Of course they'll be awake. I don't think they'll ever sleep again while I'm out, since the accident. How am I supposed to add this to the mix?

I exhale with relief when I turn onto our street. The lights are on in the TV room and the porch light is lit up as well. I park, so grateful that my car is almost silent.

I sit for a second, breathing and trying to plan this.

Get inside.

Keep my hood up.

Sound normal, say goodnight, say I'm tired, go upstairs as quickly as possible.

I grab my bag and slowly get out the car. I have to do everything with my left hand, my right one is throbbing worse and worse and it's already swollen, my fingers curled into a lobster-claw. I awkwardly set my purse on my right shoulder and try to hide the hand behind it. How I'm going to fix my hand, I don't know, but I couldn't miss curfew and go to the hospital.

I let my hair fall over my face, take a deep breath and head towards the door.

I stand outside the door for a second, and then take out my phone. It's 11:28. I'm not late. I push open the door, and quickly turn my back to the inside as I start to close it.

"Hey, baby girl," Mom calls from where they're watching a movie. "Have fun?"

"Yeah, it was good," I reply, but my voice sounds round and hollow, the words coming from underwater. I keep the hood up and turn, trying to avoid them.

"You okay?" Mom asks. Fuck. She'd know something was wrong if she was blind and partially deaf.

"Yeah, just tired. Long week," I muster, using what she already knows about to cover my lie. I head for the stairs. "Gonna go to bed."

I'm so dizzy I just want to get upstairs. More than anything I just want to fall into both of them and cry, but this...this will break them. This will tear them apart. I can't hurt them anymore than this past year as already done.

"Kati," Mom says. Just one word, but it's Mom, and behind that name is a string of words demanding that I stop and prove her right, because she already knows something is wrong.

"Yeah?" I say, my back to her and my hood loyally covering my head.

"Come here," she says. I bet she thinks I'm drunk. And fuck, do I wish I was. Anything but this. What almost was.

Slowly, I close my eyes and inhale.

"Kate," Mom says firmly. She's tired of waiting, and I'm not getting myself out of this.

I haven't even seen my own face. I was so concerned with leaving and getting home, that I ignored seeing the damage for myself.

I slowly turn, my head down, and when I'm turned all the way around, I slowly bring my head up to face her. And in that second I am glad I didn't see my face first. Her face clenches, her lips part and her eyes freeze.

I swallow, knowing that I'm about to break. I'm 16 years old but still, the only think I want right now is to crawl into her lap and disappear. But I am, as anyone will tell you, my mother's daughter. I clench my jaw, feigning a tough front, but I can't hide my eyes from her, and they tell her everything. Her hands slowly come up to her face and then she's reaching for me.

"Oh my-" she chokes out, and Dad finally turns around.

"What's going o-"

He stops as I glance at him sideways, and Mom is gently touching me and trying not to hurt me all at once.

"How did this...Kati..." Tears spring to Mom's eyes as Dad jumps up and gets to us. The dizziness, the feeling that I might throw up, the fear and the intense feeling that I'm about to break, bubble inside me and I feel myself falter. Dad reaches forward and scoops me up in one quick movement. Mom still looks like she's seeing a ghost, and I suppose she is...She takes in my torn clothing and the state of my face and I know what she's thinking.

"I didn't..." I start, but Mom is grabbing her purse and Dad is racing me out the door. I feel cloudy and drunk as he places me gently in the backseat of his SUV and Mom climbs in after me and goes to grab my hand. I whimper and she looks down at my mangled hand. Her eyes close. I pretend I don't see her face crumple and the tears slip from her eyes, because I can't stand seeing her like this, because of me.

Dad drives too fast as Mom whispers to me, trying to get me to talk.

"Who did this? Was this at Axel's?"

But I feel, literally, drunk, and I haven't had a drop. I feel hazy and numb and like I'm floating.

"You're okay now, baby. You're okay...I love you, sugar. Mama loves you so much...it's gonna be okay..."

I have no sense of time because after we've been in the car for five minutes and I swear that I heard Jamie say my name, we're at St. Ambrose. And that's a 20-minute drive. Dad is out of the car, slamming the door and opening the back door, gently pulling me out before I know what's happening. He's as gentle as possible, but everything hurts. I try not to cry, but I feel like my eyes are made of water and I'm just trying to breathe.

Mom is right at Dad's side, barking orders as soon as we get inside Emergency. She's demanding a gurney, a certain nurse that she likes, an Xray, someone from ortho...She asks for so many things that I can't keep track. Because I'm trying to, hoping anything will take my mind off of what happened.

Suddenly Dad is lying me on a gurney and Mom is stuck to my right side like glue. She's talking softly to me, telling me to be strong, that I'm okay, that everything will be okay. She demands morphine, because I see her flinch every time I whimper. I can't even help it...everything just hurts.

Addison is looking over me seconds later.

"Charlotte, what happened?" she demands, shocked at seeing me.

"I don't know, she just came home like that," Mom's voice quavers.

"What? Home from where?"

"Axel's, she was at Axel's. A party. A fucking _party_." She's already blaming herself.

Nurses are hovering, poking into me to get a vein, taking my blood pressure, my temperature.

"Kati, can you tell me what happened?" Addison asks as they wheel me into a room, after Mom demands privacy.

The morphine has started to swim through my veins like fingers, spreading numbness in its wake. It's making me feel more drunk, but less like I can't breathe, because the pain is subsiding.

"I went to a party," I mumble.

"I know, sweetheart, what happened at the party?" Addison asks, looking over me, taking note of my hand, my face.

"I didn't drink," I say suddenly. "I don't..."

"I know you don't, honey. This wasn't your fault. We need to know what happened, though, so we know how to help you."

I let my head fall to the side, so I'm looking Mom in the eye. "I can't tell you. I can't break us anymore. Everything you warned me about...it happens anyways."

Mom's eyes are swimming, tears dripping constantly. "Baby, you can tell me _anything_. _Anything!_"

I shake my head, but it's lazy and loose, like I can't control my muscles.

"Charlotte," Addison says quietly, and I see her gesture towards my middle. I look down and see them looking at my torn pants. I notice that they are torn wide open, exposing my underwear, which are also ripped.

"Oh my god," Mom breathes, her face crumpling as she reaches up and covers her mouth. "No...no."

She looks like she's about to break down.

"No," I try to explain. "Mom, no."

But she's crying, hiding her face in her hand as she leans on my gurney with the other. Dad is near the door, breathing heavily and rubbing his chin over and over. He can't deal with this either.

"Kati, honey, did he..." Addison starts softly.

"No," I say more firmly, but it still comes across as drunken. They won't believe me.

"Honey, I have to examine you," Addison explains. Dad leaves the room and I notice Violet outside in the hallway as the nurse closes the door behind him, and he falls into Violet's arms.

"He didn't rape me," I say clumsily. "He tried..."

Mom is trying so hard to stop crying and calm herself down; remain her stoic self. She stares at me when I say this, and I see relief slip over her face for a moment, but it's masked over again but believing that, like her, I'm lying about it.

"Do you mind if I check?" Addison asks softly.

I exhale loudly, letting the morphine lift me up.

I feel as the nurse helps Addison get my pants off. Mom helps me out of my shirt, and her breath intakes sharply. Addison looks over at Mom, who swallows hard as they stare at my body. I'm not sure what they see, but I can't focus on it long enough anyways.

Mom covers me with her body as she and Addison slip me into a hospital gown and lay me back down.

"Don't," I breathe, as Addison slips my feet into stirrups.

"Honey, I have to check," she says sadly.

"He didn't touch me," I say.

"Kate," Addison says, and I know what she means. I know how I must look.

"I mean...there. He didn't rape me," I stumble.

Addison puts a hand on my knee and I feel her move my gown. My head falls to one side and I see Mom, her eyes closed, tears falling, as she keeps a hand on my head, almost pulling my hair because she's holding she tightly.

"No rape kit," Addison says a moment later. And Mom's chest falls with relief. She leans down and kisses my forehead, pausing for a moment, her lips against my skin as she says, 'thank you' over and over again.

"I said that," I mumble. I think she gave me more morphine than I had after the accident, because I feel so much more numb than that.

Addison and the nurse start tending to parts of my body. Everything hurts less, and I don't know exactly what they're fixing. A doctor comes in to check out my hand.

"Can you tell me what happened, Kate?" he asks, his voice deep and steady.

"I hit him back," I reply drunkenly.

"And the glass?"

"What?"

"There's glass in your hand, baby," Mom whispers, unable to speak any louder.

"Picture frame," I reply, my own voice permanently quiet. "I hit him with a picture frame. And then I hit him."

The doctor nods and begins removing the glass. I watch numbly, my eyes have closed with drugs, thinking it could be someone else's hand because I can't feel anything, and why would my own hand be riddled with glass?

He talks to Mom and Addison and I tune out, because all I can hear is the song Ballerina that reminds me of Jamie, and it's making me feel dizzy.

"This is going to take something more," the doctor rumbles, referring to my hand. Addison nods at the nurse, and she comes forward with a syringe.

"You're going to fall asleep, Kati, alright?" Addison says.

"Mommy," I whisper.

"I'm right here, baby. I'm not leavin'. I'll be right here. Go to sleep, sugar. Please."

When I wake up, the sight of the too-white walls gives my stomach a sinking feeling. I'm getting tired of waking up in a hospital. But then I remember everything, all at once, and the sinking feeling intensifies.

As soon as my eyes flicker open, Mom and Dad are right there.

"Hey, honey," Dad tries to smiles. "How is everything feeling? Do you need morphine?"

I mentally take in what's throbbing: everything. My face, a dull ache, my lip, sharp stabs, my hand, crushing. I just look at him, still high off the last dose I had, but he slips a little more into my IV.

Mom gently brushes hair from my forehead. "Baby..." she's still stuck whispering. "Who did this?"

But the way she's looking at me, I think she knows.

"How long..." I begin, my tongue clumsy.

"You've been asleep for a couple hours," she replies, knowing what I mean.

I suddenly wonder where my phone is, but vaguely remember dropping it at home when Dad picked me up.

"Baby, please. Who did this? Don't hide, this wasn't your fault."

"Everything you're scared of...everything you tell me to watch out for...it happens," I tell her again, but my voice is more audible this time.

"We are going to get through this," Dad says forcefully. I swallow, taking in his bloodshot eyes and devastated face.

"Tell us who it was," Mom repeats. "It was Silas, wasn't it."

I glance up at her, and see Dad out of the corner of my eye, as his face hardens into stone. I nod, and his fists clench.

Addison comes in, trying to smile at me. "Hey, you."

"Hey," I croak.

"You're going to heal up just fine, honey. We put a cast on your hand, and there's some stitches, too. On your arm, as well. You must have really nailed him with that frame."

"My arm?"

"Some glass was in pretty deep," she explains. "It'll heal alright. You've got some pretty serious bruises, but those will have to heal on their own."

I nod, trying to wrap my head around this night.

"Did you find out who did this?" she asks Mom and Dad quietly.

"Exactly who I said," Mom bites out her words.

"I want him brought in. Now," Dad demands.

His name is called over the intercom.

"For Christ's sake, don't they know my daughter is here? Tell them to find someone else. Anyone else!" he yells, heading for the door.

"How are you feeling?" Addison asks, meaningfully.

I shrug. I honestly don't know what words to put to this.

"Baby, how did this happen?" Mom begs, her eyes drowning behind a wall of water.

I swallow. "I should have known...he was being so weird lately. He said he didn't want me hanging out with Axel, and something about it being better when it's just the two of us..."

"Words of a psychopath if I ever heard 'em," Addison says under her breath.

"I thought maybe he was just having a hard time or something...but then he wanted to talk last night, so we went into Atticus' room..."

Addison looks at Mom, confused.

"Axel's older brother," she explains.

"He's away. At Princeton," I say quietly. "We went in there and were just talking and then he started kissing me. I know it sounds pathetic, but I didn't want him to be mad at me, and I was just going to drop everything and forget it, so...we just made out for a bit. But then...he was getting..." This is not a conversation I want to have. "I wanted to slow down. But that's when he got...I don't know. He just didn't care that I said no, or pushed his hands away. And then he hit me, and it made me dizzy and I couldn't fight back enough. I found the frame and hit him and..."

I look up and see Addison's glassy eyes and Mom's face masked in pure anger and devastation all at once.

Suddenly, Dad bursts into the room. "It was Axel," he breathes. Addison and Mom stare at him and then turn back to me, shocked.

"What?" I say, confused.

"No, not this," Dad can barely look at me. "He was the one calling me. He's been trying to call Kati for hours."

"Is he okay?" I ask, suddenly scared that Silas went after him, too.

"He's okay," Dad nods, but there's more, and he's not telling me.

"Dad," I say, demanding with my face that he tell me.

"A couple hours ago, Silas went out in the backyard. Axel said he was drunk, stumbling around and looking for a beer. He was all bloody, so Axel tried to talk to him, and Silas started mumbling something about you. He wouldn't give him a straight answer so Axel went inside and started looking around. He saw Atticus' room and put two and two together. Said he ran outside and finished what you started."

"What I started?" I ask, confused.

"Well, what Silas started, and you tried to do," Dad explains.

"He..." Mom frowns.

"Beat the shit out of Silas. Yeah. Knocked him out, and drove him to the police station. Hauled him inside and told them Silas hurt you, but that he couldn't find you. He's still down there, at the station. He was drunk, obviously, so the cops are keeping him, trying to figure out how to handle it. He drove drunk, but he brought in Silas, so...I dunno. And that's when he started calling me."

"Axel's in jail?"

"He's at the station, honey. I'm going to get him," he explains. "I'll go later."

"No," I start. "Go get him."

My eyes are stinging. Axel, loyal and unwavering Axel, figured it all out and beat the shit out of Silas. The thought of him being stuck in jail bothers me.

"Please," I beg.

"Can you get him out?" Addison wonders.

"He brought in a potential rapist," Dad says angrily. "Surely they won't be that stupid."

He comes over to touch my forehead.

"You're sure you'll be okay?"

"I'm fine," I shake my head, dismissing this. "Please just get him out."

He kisses my forehead, kisses Mom and hurries out.

"Wow," Mom says softly.

"Yeah," Addison agrees.

We're all quiet, but my silence is mostly because of the drugs flowing through my system. Mom and Addison, I'm sure, are in complete disbelief.

Addison has to step out for a bit, so Mom pulls up a chair and sits beside my bed.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, baby," she whispers, holding my hand in both of hers.

"It's not your fault, Mom," I say. "Please don't do that."

"You don't understand," she says, near tears. "How bad this could have been. How...even more destroyed you would feel."

I swallow. "When I thought it was going to happen...all I could think about was you, telling me how it happened to you. And I just...I couldn't handle it. Another something bombarding us. If he hadn't been so drunk...I don't think I'd be...okay."

She rests her forehead on our hands, trying to hide her face from me as tears pour down it. "Nothing is okay," she whispers. "But it will be. I'm just so glad it wasn't worse."

"I heard Jamie," I tell her after a moment, knowing how insane it sounds. She looks at me, confused.

"When I was fighting him off, and when I was driving...when I got home. I just heard her voice. She said my name...I don't know," I shrug at her.

"You've got yourself a guardian angel, sugar," she tries to smile. "Between Big Daddy and Jamie, I'd say you've got some serious help. But you did this," she says. "You fought yourself free. I can't believe how strong you are."

She wants to smile at me, but this has taken it's toll on her. She's exhausted and furious and devastated and confused.

Loopy from the drugs and growing more and more tired as Mom absent-mindedly plays with my hair, I slowly drift off.

"She's okay?" I hear a familiar voice.

"She will be," Mom replies. "Physically. Emotionally, she's going to need some time."

It's quiet as I try to open my eyes. The sliver of light is blinding but after a moment I can make out Axel standing beside Mom and Dad.

"Hey, baby," Mom says, coming to me. "You've got a visitor."

Axel comes to the other side of me. "Damn girl. What did I tell you about staying outta the hospital?"

He's trying to play it cool, but I've never seen Axel like this. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks unhinged. I notice he's got a cut on his face and bloody knuckles that have been bandaged, no doubt by Dad.

"But they keep all the good Jello here," I reply, high from the morphine, and giving him a drunken smile.

He chuckles, but looks down quickly because tears are in his eyes.

"You hate Jello," he mumbles, trying to maintain his cool.

"Thanks," I say after a moment. He looks at me, his dark eyes so sad.

"For what? I should have been there. How did this even happen...at _my _house."

He shakes his head, furious with himself.

"Hey," I frown. "Don't."

He looks at me.

"None of us saw this coming. And you went all chivalrous on his ass," I say, knowing my mocking his vernacular will make him smile. "We'll be alright."

He shakes his head, laughing softly. "Damn it, girl."

He takes my undamaged hand in his bandaged one.

"A brother can't leave you alone even for a minute," he mumbles.

I smile at him, and a couple of tears slip from his eyes. He quickly brushes them away, trying so hard to be tough for me.

Mom and Dad smile at him as best they can, and I know they are grateful for him, even if he didn't "get to me on time".


	42. Chapter 42

The next day I leave the hospital. I can't stand lying there in a bed. I just want to be home.

When we get home I go up to my room and get my first glimpse of myself in a mirror. It's worse than I was expecting. It's weird how sometimes you bang yourself and you know you're going to bruise, and other times you find a crazy bruise and have no idea how you got it. Everything is still sore, yet I wasn't expecting to see what my reflection holds. I get a bit of deja vu when I see the black eye. But this time my entire eye socket is swollen. My lip is split, healing slowly, and stinging constantly. My hand and wrist are encased in a purple cast, and I have stitches just above the cast on my forearm. I don't remember feeling glass rip up my skin. My adrenaline had been bursting full speed, and the two-inch gash was a surprise to me. My nails were broken, too, but Mom clipped them for me. Several of them were torn to the quick; I must have swiped at his face

Standing in front of my tall mirror, I slowly unzip my hoody. I have nothing on underneath; lifting my arms and pulling on shirts hurts. I'd rather just have buttons or zippers.

When I drop the sweater, my own body makes me feel nauseous. Three ribs are taped up and there are bruises and small cuts all over my torso. Nail marks where he tried to pull at my bra. I turn and try to see my back. Bruises everywhere. I pull off my sweatpants and find bruises on my legs. There's a huge one, the size of a grapefruit, on my outer thigh where I clipped Atticus' desk when I ran out. It's purple and dark blue and bigger than any bruise I've ever had. There are finger marks over my body, where he grabbed me too hard.

I slip on a bandeau, pulling it up my legs rather than have to lift my arms. I'm standing there in my underwear, staring at my stained body, when someone knocks.

"Yeah," I say, barely audible.

Mom opens the door a crack and I see Dad turn away, respecting my privacy and leaving Mom to come in alone.

She swallows, standing near me, but she's afraid to touch me. My skin would burn her, making her own scars of long ago resurface.

"I don't even know I got some of these," I mumble. "I mean...I do, but..."

"I know," she replies softly.

She goes to my chest of drawers and digs out a fresh pair of sweatpants and hoody. She gently slips the sweater onto my arms, pulling it up carefully to sit on my shoulders. I step into the pants and sit gingerly on my bed, where Nigel is waiting for me to let him know I'm okay. He's so worried, his big brown eyes staring at me intently. I scratch his ears, and he relaxes a bit.

"Can I get you anything, sugar?" Mom asks.

I shake my head. "I'm just tired. Can we just watch a movie or something?"

She nods, trying to smile. I'm so tired of everyone trying to smile at me. I just want, more than anything, to wake up and have none of this be real. I want to feel steady on my feet again.

Mom says she'll make some smoothies, and when she leaves I see my bag on my bed. She or Dad must have put it here. I dig out my phone, but it's dead of course. When I plug it in it starts to buzz with messages. Axel, Max, Jenelle, Chase...Silas. One message after another, angry and drunk, telling me to keep my mouth shut...no one will believe me...it was my fault...

They stop around midnight. That must have been when he stumbled outside and Axel found him.

I respond to Axel's latest text, sent less than an hour ago. I tell him I'm okay, at home now, and then I shut off my phone altogether. Just when I was starting to feel normal again, I am once again going to be the girl everyone is talking about. And I don't want to hear it. I put my phone in a desk drawer and close it, before heading downstairs.

Obviously I don't go to school on Monday. Or Tuesday. Dad picks up homework for me, and on Wednesday afternoon, Mom says she needs to step out for a bit.

"Will you be okay?" she asks, her brow furrowed.

I nod, watching a documentary on the history of Caesarian sections. I haven't slept at all since being home. Every time I close my eyes I see Silas, I feel his weight pushing me down, and I feel like I can't breathe, and I wake up. Sometimes screaming, and other times just breathless. I've spent every night reading, trying to immerse myself in calculus, history, English lit, Spanish verbs...I'm not even doing assigned homework at this point. I'm working ahead in my textbooks, furiously.

Mom bends down and kisses my forehead as I take notes, curled into the corner of the couch.

"I won't be long," she promises.

Since being home I've been obsessive about locking every door. The patio doors, the front door, the side door...even the balcony doors on the second floor. Mom and Dad don't say anything; they dutifully lock every door behind them. I hear the locks click into place when Mom leaves.

I finish the documentary and the entire body of my essay on Roman history before Mom and Dad get home, together.

"Can we talk, baby?" Mom asks after they greet me, coming to sit on the couch.

I look up at them wordlessly.

"Daddy and I have decided to...leave LA. For a while."

I stare at them, frowning slightly; confused. "Leave to where?"

"This year has been near impossible. For any adult, let alone a child. And I know we've spent your entire childhood instilling in you the importance of facing your problems, dealing with them head-on...but there's a limit. There's a line in the sand, and we feel that it's been drawn," Mom explains softly.

"I'll be fine," I say.

"Yes," Mom nods. "You will. But there's nothing wrong with accepting a little help sometimes. And that, for us, means a change of scenery."

"Time to decompress," Dad adds. "And deal with this together."

"Where are we going?" I ask, not hating the idea at all.

"We're going to stay at Mama and Big Daddy's," Mom replies. "Mama's off in Europe, and what better place? You love it there."

I nod, feeling relief seep slowly into my chest.

"What about school?" I frown.

"Well, that's where we were, honey," Dad replies. "We spoke with Dean Kim and we...we withdrew you from Chadwick."

My eyes widen in shock and disbelief. "What?"

"Only as an attending student," he explains. "You're officially listed a home-schooled student. We spoke with your teachers, and they've agreed to let you finish your senior year online. They'll email you assignments, and you can email them back. For exams you can either Skype with them, or Mom or I will supervise it. It's actually more common than you'd think. Dean Kim said there are quite a few Chadwick students who do it. That kid who's an actor, and a pair of sisters whose parents have MS? They do it."

I nod slowly, taking this in. I love school, but I know I can't go back there. And I refuse to think of it as running away from a problem.

"What do you think?" Mom asks, watching me.

After a moment, I reply. "I think that sounds good," I nod. "I wish I could just graduate and start Berkeley tomorrow."

I say, exaggerating.

"Well, that's the other thing about this," Dad adds. "You can go at your own pace. So you might actually finish early. Maybe in February or March."

"What about my extracurricular credits?" I ask, remembering tennis and soccer.

"You'll be riding horses," Dad shrugs. "Did you know Dean Kim is obsessed with Arabians?" He smiles slightly, and it makes my lips curse ever so slightly into a small grin.

"I know it's a lot to take in, baby," Mom says, cupping my cheek in her hand. "This is just what's best for you."

I nod as she looks at me. They both look relieved.

"What about work?" I ask suddenly.

Dad shrugs. "Extended leave. The practice understands. They all want what's best for you."

"But...what about your jobs?"

"They'll be here when we come back," Mom waves a hand dismissively.

"Nigel," I say, and his head perks up to look at me expectantly. "He can't fly."

"We're going to drive," Dad replies easily.

"That's like...2,000 miles," I say.

"Yep," Mom nods. "We can take our time, be there in two or three days. We haven't done a road trip in awhile."

I sit and take all of this in until I realize they're still staring at me, as though waiting for me to do something.

"When do we leave?"

Things move quickly. We're leaving the day after tomorrow. I start loading luggage with clothes and things I know I'll need, since this is an indefinite vacation.

Axel comes by the day before we leave.

"Jeez, girl, you takin' your entire closet?" I hear from inside my closet. I poke my head out, and Axel flinches at my appearance, and then tries to hide his reaction. I let it slide, knowing I look terrible.

"Never know what you might need," I shrug, coming out to sit beside him on my bed.

"So, you're heading out, huh?" he says, fidgeting a little with his hat.

"Apparently," I nod.

"I'm glad," he says, glancing up at me. "Not that you're leaving, but that you'll get some time to just...get away from here. Start fresh, and move forward, y'know?"

I nod, feeling terrible for how sad he looks.

"I'm so sorry, Kati. I wish I could have done something," he shakes his head, furious at himself.

"Come on," I say, holding his forearm. "What good is saying shit like that going to do? It happened. But it wasn't your fault, or anyone else's. He's just...fucked." I shrug, for lack of a better term. "I don't want this to define anything. At all."

"Who the hell am I supposed to paintball with?" he says after a few minutes. He looks up at me and his hazel eyes are glassy. I reach out and hug him, and he holds me so tightly that it hurts, but I don't tell him.

"Don't go findin' some other brother to watch your back," he mumbles into my hair. "I can do it from here."

"Is that everything?" Dad asks, examining the packed SUV. We couldn't fit in another thing even if we had to. There are even two duffel bags across the floor in the backseat, so I have to sit cross-legged.

"I don't think we have a choice," I reply, monotone.

It's just after 8:00 am, and we're about to leave. The house is cleared out, the fridge bare and everything unplugged. Violet and Addison have keys, just in case. Mine and Mom's cars are parked in the garage, and everything we need is stuffed into Dad's BMW.

Max came by last night when she heard that I was leaving. She started crying as soon as she saw me.

"I can't believe this happened to you...I can't believe any of this shit has happened to you! This is so fucked up!" she cried angrily.

I let her lose it until she finally sat down beside me by the pool where I was dangling my legs.

"He's in juvie," she said, after a few minutes. I didn't look up. "I figured you were probably wondering...he's in there for awhile, and then I heard that his parents are sending him to some reform school in New Hampshire."

"New Hampshire Academy for Assholes?" I joked, drily.

"Fuck," she sighed, shaking her head. "I hope he gets the shit kicked out of him on a daily basis. I'm sure juvie is already showing him how people, even convicts, feel about rapists."

"He didn't rape me, Max," I said, hating this label being placed anywhere near me.

"I know," she said quickly. "Thank god."

We sat there for a few minutes and then she turned to me with tears in her eyes. So many tears this year. Each one a different flavour and more bitter than the last. Twenty-seven names for tears, and I've named them all this year.

"Keep in touch, okay?" she asked sadly.

"Of course we will," I replied, hugging her.

"Yeah," she tried to smile. "You're pretty much stuck with me, now."

I smiled, and when she left she hugged me, smiling sadly as she walked away.

Now, everything we need is crammed into luggage and stacked in the car like Tetris pieces.

Mom comes out of the house, locking the door behind her. She smiles at me, slinging her bag over her shoulder and kissing my forehead.

"Ready, baby?"

I nod. I am. I am so ready to get away. To plunge myself into homework and books and riding Bluegrass, and trying to fix the hole that I've been working on all year. I feel like it's been snagged open, jagged and raw, and I've been knocked back 30 paces. But the relief I feel at leaving LA makes me feel stronger. So I help Nigel into the backseat where he snuggles into his blanket, and climb in after him. Dad closes the hatchback and gets in the driver's seat.

"Everybody good?" he smiles. It's not a normal, happy smile. It's the same smile all of us are wearing: it's relief, it's sadness and it's exhaustion.

"Yep," I sigh, watching our house disappear as we leave


	43. Chapter 43

If you've ever spent endless hours in a car, you know what it's like to have a plethora of minutes staring you in the face, daring you to use them up thinking of something that bothers you. I've barely slept since that night, and when I do fall asleep, I only see Silas. I see fists and glass and the laughing faces of Atticus, Axel and Allegra. Their beauty, and the resonant alliteration of their names rolls off the tongue, but now pierces my mind like a knife. Not Axel himself, just that one photo. The three of them. I had a dream where that photo was floating through the air and it exploded into a million pieces, embedding themselves into my skin, my eyes, my very heart.

I doze in the car, but I can't fall asleep. Sleeping pills would be useless, because the nightmares are my worst enemy. Mom has taken to sleeping beside me like a faithful blanket, never leaving me exposed.

The first night on the road, we stop in Albuquerque. We find a hotel that allows pets, and clamber into the room, exhausted. There's another room attached to this suite, with just a queen-sized bed and a bathroom, and I drop my bags in there. I shower, desperate to wash off the remnants of Silas that I still feel on my skin, and dig out some shorts and a tank top before collapsing on the bed, exhausted. I hear the disgruntled noise of Nigel, and it makes me smile. He can always make me smile, no matter what. I get up and help him onto the bed, where he noisily flops down with a huff and makes himself comfortable. I cover him with a blanket, just how he likes, and climb under the covers with _The Idiot_; the book by Dostoevsky that is next on my essay list.

I invite the knock on my door in, and Mom comes in, wrapped in her favorite green robe and drying her hair with a towel.

"You wanna come watch a movie?" she asks.

I shake my head, tiredly. "No. I want to finish this. Thanks, though."

"Next essay?"

"Yeah. Dostoevsky. _The Idiot_."

"What's the one about?"

"The prince who leaves the sanatorium and ends up thinking he was better off in there," I reply, aware of how monotone I sound.

"Baby," she says, sitting down and resting her hand on my curled-up knees. "Before you give up, give this a chance."

She's only putting it this way, because she believes with all her heart that this is going to help me. And I want so badly to believe her, that I nod, offering a small smile.

"You sure you don't want to come watch a movie? It's mindless, numb comedy," she grins.

"I'm sure," I smile, appreciating the effort. "Really."

"Alright, baby girl," she agrees to leave me alone. "I love you."

She leaves, and I snuggle deeper into my covers and bury myself in my book.

I'm lying in Atticus' bed and Silas is towering over me, taller than I remember. I go to roll over, move off the bed and run, but I can't. I realize that I can't move at all. My arms and legs...even my fingers and my toes and my eyelids...everything is frozen. I have no control over anything. He bends down and I feel his weight on me, so heavy that I can't breathe. I'm trying so hard to breathe, that I'm gasping, and I try to scream.

I don't wake up until I realize the hand on my face isn't Silas' at all. It's Mom's, and she's trying to calm me down.

"You're okay, Kati," she whispers. "You're okay. Mama's here, just breathe."

I take in the size and smoothness of the hand on my face, and realize it's hers. I listen, and force my brain to accept that this is Mom. I am okay.

It's hard. It's so hard, that I want to get up and lock myself in the bathroom. I want to disappear into my books, where I'm safer, among the paper cuts. I want to wake up a year ago, and still have my life beautifully intact. But, as Mom and Grandma say, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. And I've got no horse. I have to deal with this.

So I let Mom hold me until I stop thinking it's Silas, and relax enough to melt against her as she whispers into my ear that everything is okay.

It sounds weird, but it's almost better than I'm not in my own bed. Being in this new environment, and having Mom wrapping me in her arms work together to force me into feeling okay. Visual proof that I am not in Atticus' room, helps. Mom holding me against her like I'm little again, helps. And my own voice in my head, so conditioned by hours spent with Violet, helps.

Breathe. Take in your surroundings. Breathe. You're okay. Be realistic. Be strong. Breathe.

"I'm right here, sugar," Mom whispers, refusing to sleep unless I do. "Try to sleep. I'm not going anywhere. Everything's okay."

I repeat her words in my head like a mantra, but it's futile.

When I hear movement in the next room, I crane my neck to see the clock on my side table and see that it's 8:18 am.

I haven't slept at all.

I've been living in hooded sweatshirts. I've always liked hoods, but now, they prove to be an even greater joy than I previously believed. The hoods protect me from eyes and mouths and thoughts of strangers. I wore one on our way into this hotel, and I wear it as we leave.

We ordered room service, but even the eggs Benedict, smothered in buttery sauce, couldn't invoke my appetite. I picked at the potatoes and the egg, but barely dented the dish.

"Sugar, you have to eat something. Please," Mom says, her eyes exposing her pain.

I look back at her, and my eyes tell her everything.

That I'm trying. That I hate this. That I'm sorry that she's worrying.

"Maybe a slushie?" she offers.

I nod. I could handle that.

So on the way out of Albuquerque we stop at a 7-11 and Dad brings me back a giant root beer slush.

"This is bigger than Nigel was when we got him," I say, holding the beast in my hands.

"And it's the first thing you'll actually eat, in almost two weeks," Dad responds.

I sigh and suck on the straw as I alternate between reading my book and playing on my iPad.

When I'm so full of slush that I feel like I might freeze from the inside out, I set aside the book and the tablet and snuggle into Nigel, dozing in the warm sunlight; the hum of the road beneath us lulling me to sleep.


	44. Chapter 44

Underneath the stitches in my bottom lip is a hard ball. It's just the swelling, I know. But I've developed a bad habit of dragging my teeth over it, just narrowly avoiding the stitches themselves. I didn't realize I was doing it until I was jolted out of my daydreaming by Mom, staring at me through the rearview mirror at a red light.

"Baby, don't do that. You might rip a stitch."

I flick my eyes up to meet hers in the mirror.

"What?" I say, confused. I had been thinking about world capitals to try and stop Silas from bombarding my mind.

"Your lip," she says.

"Oh," I mumble. Absently I drag my teeth over it again, and realize it's throbbing a bit. So I stop. Taking a huge breath and adjusting myself in the backseat, trying to get more comfortable. Dad is fast asleep in the passenger seat. He could sleep standing up at the Fourth of July fireworks, I'm sure.

I need to be doing something, because my teeth are already wanting to rub my swollen lip again. I'm half-sprawled across the back seat, with Nigel to my left, snoring loudly. I sit up and turn around, reaching into the back to grab my guitar case.

Cross-legged, I sit near the middle of the seat so I have room for the neck of the guitar. I slip my earbuds in and find a playlist full of songs I love singing. I think of Mr. Jeffrey, telling me to use music. Use it to help me.

So with my head laid lazily against the back of the seat, I play one song after another. Schuyler Fisk, Paramore, Tegan and Sara...I stare out the window, singing Awake My Soul by Mumford and Sons, and when I turn my head, I see Mom's eyes in the rearview mirror. They're swimming, focused on the road. By now Dad's awake, and he's gripping her hand, soothingly rubbing her skin with his thumb.

Numbly, I go back to staring out the window, but after Mumford and Sons I play Piano Man by Billy Joel because Mom loves it and it's the only thing I can do to help. What am I supposed to do? I wish someone could tell me.

My fingers are starting to hurt, but I ignore the pain, playing random songs. I have to keep singing, but if I'm doing that, then my teeth can't tug against my lip.

We get through New Mexico, and halfway across Texas before Dad, who switched with Mom hours ago, decides it's time to stop. He finds a hotel, makes sure they'll allow Nigel, and we trudge inside with a bag each.

I take a long, hot shower, feeling the sting of the water over the bruises and cuts. I have to hold my hand out so the cast doesn't get wet.

I've been living in yoga pants and sweats, so I dig out a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt and climb onto the bed with Nigel. This time we just got one room with two beds, rather than a suite. Dad's checking his email at the desk when he turns to me.

"Hey, I got an email from Axel. He said he's been texting and calling but you're phone's off?"

"Oh, I don't have it," I reply. "I left it home. In a drawer."

"Well, sugar, how are you supposed to talk to your friends?" Mom asks, towel-drying her hair.

I shrug. "I don't want to...answer questions. I want a new number or something." I pick at a nick in my cast.

"Honey, he can't contact you," Dad says gently, knowing what I'm skirting around.

"He might," I say quietly.

"No, actually, he won't," he repeats, coming to sit beside me. "Axel just told me that Silas admitted to everything. He's not denying it. Which means no going to court for you, and no worrying about hearing from him or seeing him. Ever. He's going to juvie, and then he's probably going to spend some time in jail. Before going to that reform school, or whatever Axel was saying."

I stare him. Silas confessed?

Dad looks at me, seeing my shock. "It's over. Just try to focus on moving forward. Don't let him drag you backwards. And don't push Axel away."

"I wasn't trying to," I whisper.

"I know, honey," he kisses my forehead. "I know you feel like being alone a lot right now, but please don't hide yourself away. You made it through this. And you'll keep getting stronger until...one day, you feel like you again. Remember in the summer? That day you and Axel laughed until you both fell on the ground and cackled like a couple of hyenas?"

I smile at his joke, looking at him like he's a geek.

"Did you ever think, months earlier, that you'd feel like that again?" he presses.

I inhale deeply, letting it out slowly as Mom sits on my other side, playing with my hair.

"No," I admit. "I thought I'd never laugh again at all."

"Exactly. But you took time, and you grieved and you pushed yourself...you fight everything, honey. With every bit of your feisty King genes."

Mom grins as he playfully grabs her.

"Damn straight," she says quietly. "Nothin' we can't get through, baby girl. Absolutely nothin'."

We're quiet. I have missed Axel, and Max...I've wanted to text them. But that wasn't until we were out of California, and we couldn't exactly turn around.

"We'll stop and get you a new phone tomorrow," Dad decides, brushing a thumb gently across my cheek. "New number and everything...Okay?"

I nod after a second, offering a small smile of thanks.

He hugs me. They've both been hugging me in a way that's clear they're trying not to hurt me, knowing I am basically one giant bruise, but so used to hugging me tightly. Dad holds too tightly at first, and even when I try not to, I end up making a noise from the pain, and he loosens his grip.

"Sorry," he says quietly. He pulls away and kisses my forehead, getting up from the bed. "I'm going to email him back."

He gestures towards his laptop.

"He's pretty worried about you."

I nod, and then move backwards on the bed to settle into the pillows. There are only four of them so I get up and open the closet doors, finding four more on the shelf. I toss them all onto my bed.

"Do you want extra pillows?" I ask Mom.

She laughs. "I'm good with two, darlin'. You can have all eight to yourself."

I roll my eyes as she makes fun of me, smiling, even if it's tiny and half-sad.

I crowd all eight pillows against the headboard and then climb back onto the bed, nestling into the pillows, despite the multitude of painful jabs I feel as I move. Mom climbs on beside me and tosses a blanket over both of us and flicks on the TV.

"You wanna watch Twilight?" she smiles too big at me.

I stare back. "I'd rather have my face licked by the entire cast of Jersey Shore."

She laughs, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me to rest against her. She kisses the top of my head as it sits on her chest.

She names a few TV shows and movies, but none of them are appealing.

"I'm gonna go get some dinner," Dad says, closing his laptop. "Are we all still leaning towards Thai?"

"I think it was a unanimous vote," Mom agrees. "There was a place right down the street when we drove in."

"Yeah, near the exit? I think I'll go there," he says, grabbing his keys.

He comes to kiss both of us before heading out.

"Easy A?" Mom suggests after he leaves.

"Yes. Just please stop suggesting Twilight," I reply drily, and she chuckles as she clicks the channel.

On our way out of Dallas the next morning, Dad finds an Apple store and gets me a new phone. He doesn't even ask if I want to come inside with him, because we all know I'm not going anywhere as long as my eye is blackened and I look like...well, like someone beat the shit out of me.

As we leave Dallas, I plug the phone into my Macbook and transfer all of my contacts onto it. I delete Silas.

I text Axel, telling him that it's me, from a new number. He replies immediately, asking if I'm okay and how I've been.

It makes me feel better, sitting there as we drive, having a half-hour-long text conversation with him. Eventually, I need to sleep. The painkillers zonk me right out, so I snuggle against Nigel, pulling my hood over my face and falling into a drug-induced, fitful sleep.

I wake up constantly, but, high from the drugs, I'm always slightly confused and need to look around to remind myself that I'm okay. I have crazy dreams...Silas, Jamie, broken glass and ballet slippers...and never feel fully rested.

The Jamie dreams are less familiar to me now. They lessened more and more as time went by, but since everything with Silas, I've been seeing her constantly. She's in almost every dream, and I still haven't decided if this is okay with me or not. Mostly it just makes me miss her more, wishing she were here to be with me through this.

We stop every once in awhile, to stretch and stock up on juice and wildly unhealthy snacks.

Near Jackson we stop at a convenience store, and I have to go in. I've had to pee for hours, and I've run out of shoelace licorice. Reluctantly I fling my hood over my head and go inside with Mom.

While I'm making bad choices in the candy aisle, Mom goes to grab newspapers and coffee for her and Dad. Two girls in the aisle near me are chatting with each other when one of them bumps me.

"Sorry," she says absently, glancing at me. She does a double-take and stares at me. Wide-eyed, she turns to her friend and whispers, "Look at her face!"

And I use the term 'whisper' lightly. I'm pretty sure the cashier heard her, as did my mother, who looked up immediately.

Without grabbing anything, I left and went out to the car where Dad had finished filling it up.

"No high-calorie sugary snacks and Redbull?" he questions.

"Well, you know how Mom feels about Redbull," I reply, pretending that nothing is wrong.

"Yeah, she's not coming around on that anytime soon," he agrees, getting in the driver's side.

I pull out a book and start reading so by the time Mom gets back to the car I can pretend I'm busy. Really, I've been staring at the same paragraph for several minutes.

"You okay, baby?" she asks, turning in her seat.

"Mmhmm," I reply, not looking up. She holds out a vitamin water. "Thanks," I say, forcing a small smile.

"Sugar, don't let it bother you," she says sadly.

"I'm not," I lie.

She looks at me for a moment longer and then turns around. I see Dad look at her questioningly, but she shakes her head, meaning she'll tell him later, and we get back on the road.

We get to Monroeville just after 7:00pm. Grandma's not here, like Mom said, but when we drive up the long driveway and get to the huge white house, Maggie is coming out on to the porch with a huge smile on her face.

Dad is the first one out, desperately needing to stretch, and Maggie comes down and hugs him.

"Cooper, you are lookin' just as handsome as ever," she smiles. "These two ladies of yours sure take good care of you."

"I'm a lucky man," she smiles, kissing her cheek.

"Miss Charlotte," she cries, coming over to hug Mom. I'm slowly climbing out of the car, taking my time to help Nigel down, as Maggie hugs Mom and tells her how beautiful and tiny she's looking.

"Oh, come on, now, look at you," Mom replies. "Look just as young as the day I first saw ya."

Maggie laughs, and turns to me as I'm standing up after setting Nigel down on the ground. My hood is up, but Maggie is...Maggie. She never judges, and never ignores. She just loves, and radiates warmth.

She slips off my hood, refusing to let me hide, and smiles at me. "Miss Kati," she says, and I know she's looking at me and not the bruises. "Oh, how I've missed you, child," she gently kisses my right cheek. "I haven't got a single person to talk to about that new book you sent me."

When we left Alabama last time, I'd promised to send Maggie a few new books, since she loves to read.

"The Glass Castle," I say, smiling for real. "How are you liking it?"

"That child is sure somethin', isn't she? I can barely put it down!"

Her arm around me, she leads me towards the house, as Jorge is coming out the front door, smiling eagerly.

"Miss Kati," he smiles, pleasantly. "We've missed you."

Formal as ever, Jorge shakes my hand and bows his head slightly, before rushing to help Dad with our bags.

"Careful, Jorge," Mom warns. "You get yourself into that mess, you might not find your way out."

She means the amount of bags; more than we've brought in the past, since this visit is indefinite.

"Oh, it gives me a chance to catch up with Dr. Cooper," he smiles, ever-ready to help someone out.

Maggie leads me up onto the porch where a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies sits near the porch swing. She jabbers on about the book as she gently forces me to sit down, pushing a glass of lemonade and a cookie into my hands before I can protest.

"And I just can't believe the gumption of that child," she says, eyes round.

"She's incredible," I nod, drinking some lemonade. Hers is always the best. "I can't believe everything she went through. She's so strong."

"Well I reckon you can relate to her," Maggie says, as though this is obvious. "It's nice to know you're not alone in dealing with troubled times."

She doesn't say more, but she gently brushes my cheek with her hand, a look of sadness passing over her warm brown eyes. She quickly recovers her look of motherly affection and smiles.

The fact that she doesn't press or pry or make this an uncomfortable conversation makes me love her even more.

Mom comes and sits on the other side of me, accepting the glass of lemonade that Maggie hands her.

"God bless you, Maggie," she sighs. "Your lemonade could revive the comatose."

"I made Miss Kati's favorite cookies," she smiles.

Chocolate peanut-butter chip. "You mean _you're _favorite cookies," I give her a small smile.

"Well, I can't help the fact that we have similar tastes in delicious things," she waves a hand dismissively. "Y'all must be starvin'. Come on inside and have some dinner."

Dad and Jorge have managed to get all of our bags into the atrium, and Jorge insists Dad go eat and leave the bags to him. Jorge doesn't take no for an answer, so Dad reluctantly pats Jorge on the shoulder and follows us into the dining room


	45. Chapter 45

I stay up later than everyone, as usual. Sleep and I are not seeing eye-to-eye.

I sit out on the second-story balcony and stare out at the land surrounding the house. It's warm and I can hear crickets and it's reposeful. I feel less crazed already, just being here. Like everything is slowly finding a steadier pace, instead of racing around. The change of scenery is beautiful, and the solitude of being out in the country is perfect.

Mom tried to stay up, but she and Dad are exhausted from traveling.

Eventually I start to feel sleepy, even though I know that restful sleep is not in the forecast.

I go inside to lay down, hoping I can escape the nightmares even for just a little while.

* * *

><p>"What are you going to do?" I ask the next morning over breakfast.<p>

Dad looks up at me from the paper. "About what, honey?"

"Work. What are you guys going to actually _do _all day?"

I pick at the eggs on my plate. He shrugs.

"Read. Play piano. Watch some movies...just relax."

"Won't you get bored? Miss work?"

"Work can wait," he replies, reaching over and squeezing my hand. "Let's just go one day at a time, okay?"

I nod half-heartedly, glancing at Mom.

"You hate doing nothing," I say to her.

"I have paperwork," she shrugs, referring to her duties as chief of staff. "What's important is that you take this time, sugar, and we all move forward. And don't you go worryin' about what your daddy and I are gonna do all day. There's plenty to keep all of us busy."

She smiles, so I let it go. I excuse myself from the table and wander outside.

It's not even noon and it's already beautiful outside.

I head over to the stable.

Jorge is nowhere to found, but I'm actually grateful for the seclusion. I go to Bluegrass' stall where she's curiously sniffing the air. She happily pushes her nose toward me when I reach her.

"Were you waiting for me?" I smile at her, running a hand over her glossy neck.

She snorts, nosing near my pocket.

"Nothing gets by you, hey," I say, pulling out the apple I brought for her.

While she eats I choose a bridle and saddle. My body aches when I lift the saddle. Usually, I prefer to go without one, but today I want to run with her. I want the speed and exhilaration of going fast; racing her across pastures.

She patiently lets me slip the bridle on before leading her out into the fresh air.

I tie her to a hook and go back for the saddle. It's a bit awkward to carry with my cast on.

When she's all ready, we walk out towards the field before I hoist myself onto her back.

It hurts, using my arms and legs to pull myself up. I wince, and then get more comfortable once I'm up.

"You wanna start out easy or just go?" I ask her, but she's been eager since she first saw me in the stable.

So with a simple nudge of my heel I give her permission and she takes off.

The warm wind blows back my hair as we race away from the house. It's fast and loud and it makes my heart speed up at first, but it's so ironically soothing that my chest starts to relax into complete comfort.

We run through all of Big Daddy's land (I can't not refer to this place as his, even now) before reaching the break in the trees that means the neighbors' land starts here. It's also a marker for a path to my right that leads up past the man-made lake and onto a hill.

The neighbors have only cows and pigs, no horses, so no one really goes up on the hill. The grass is long and green and clearly delicious because every time we go, Bluegrass can't seem to get enough of it.

Having slowed down, we leisurely follow the path. The silence, the lack of cars and people and everything except birds and the steady, rhythmic breathing of Bluegrass, makes me feel better than I've felt since the night of the party. I feel the same heaviness, but it feels just a tiny bit lighter.

At the top of the hill I slide out of the saddle and gingerly stretch my sore body. Bluegrass immediately starts to graze.

I lie in the grass on my back and stare up at the sky, sparse of clouds. I wonder why people like to believe that the dead watch us from the clouds. It makes me picture Jamie lying up there, sprawled on her stomach and looking down at me. I try to picture Big Daddy, but all I can imagine is him waving a hand dismissively, saying he hasn't got time to laze around. The image of it makes me smile.

I don't know how long I lie there, but suddenly I'm waking up, curled on my side in the tall grass. A ladybug crawls across my arm. I look up, seeing Bluegrass standing dutifully nearby. I must have actually slept because she's not even eating anymore, and she's a total glutton for this grass.

I sit up and realize...I slept. I didn't have a nightmare, and I actually _slept_.

I stand up, my bruises protesting, and look around. There's no one else, of course. I climb back into the saddle.

We slowly descend the hill and head back towards the house.

I nudge her to see if she's feeling like running, and she breaks into a gallop.

When we get back I see Mom on the porch swing, reading. She looks a little worried, but as of lately that's basically a permanent look on her face. She sets down her book and comes towards the stable, where I'm climbing off Bluegrass.

"I was startin' to think you'd decided to become a vagabond and live on the girl," she says, walking over and petting Bluegrass.

She smiles and brushes hair behind my ear.

"Was I gone long?"

"About four hours," she replies, eyes widening.

"Wow," I say, surprised, unbuckling the saddle.

"Where'd you go?"

"Just to the hill," I nod my head towards it. "I fell asleep. Like, genuinely. Asleep."

"Oh, baby girl, that's great," she strokes my hair. "I'm so glad. You're startin' to look like a zombie."

She takes the saddle from me and goes to hang it back up.

"Feel a little better?"

I nod. "Yeah. You were right. About the change of scenery."

"Definitely something calming about this place," she agrees.

She hands me a brush and helps me clean and brush Bluegrass.

"You hungry?"

"Yeah, a bit," I answer, surprised to realize that it's the first time in days that I've actually felt hungry.

"Good, because Maggie made fried chicken. And we all know that woman may well have invented it herself," she says.

"Don't tell Paula Deen," I reply, as we finish with Bluegrass.

Mom laughs and takes my brush to put away. I lead Bluegrass back to her stall, kissing her velvety nose before closing her gate.

"Come on," Mom smiles, wrapping an arm around me and kissing my temple.

After lunch Mom asks if I want to do some yoga.

"Uh," I start, preparing my decline.

"Here, darlin'. Just out in the yard."

"Oh. Okay."

So we lay our mats out on some grass and Dad comes outside, clutching his stomach and groaning.

"Maybe you shouldn't eat enough for three people," Mom says, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

"But it's so gooood," he moans, climbing into a hammock.

"Well, you've got no one to blame but yourself," she replies.

"And Maggie," he breathes.

Mom rolls her eyes.

He falls asleep soon after we start, and the hour-long silence and stretching and breathing feels great. I'm sore, and it's more difficult to do yoga with a caston, but slowly stretching all of the muscles leaves me feeling less lethargic. I'm trying to avoid any more painkillers, too, because I hate how they make me feel. So I think yoga might actually be what I'm needing to help things heal.

The rest of the afternoon I spend laid out on the porch swing reading _The Idiot_, with my head in Mom's lap while she reads her own book. She keeps playing with hair and eventually it lulls me to sleep. And for the second time that day, I get some sleep.


	46. Chapter 46

As much as I miss my friends, I actually like this home-school situation. In the two weeks that we've been here, I've done almost a month's worth of school. Mom or Dad give me my exams and then emails them to whichever teacher, and I actually Skyped with Mr. Graynor last week for a Spanish oral exam.

I like working at my own pace, and if I get a lot done, I can take a day or two off.

I've ridden Bluegrass every single day and my face is finally starting to look normal again. Mom took the stitches out of my lip, but I can't get the cast off for awhile yet. Which bothers me, and makes yoga a lot harder.

Sleep is still an issue, though I'm actually getting some of it now.

It's almost November and I don't feel like even thinking about going back to LA. I haven't said this out loud, but during a Skype session with Violet, she told me to take my time. I think she knows I'm not ready to leave. She also told me to use this time to "heal". I'm so tired of that word. "Heal". I feel like I've been "healing" forever. I just want normalcy again.

* * *

><p>I'm lying out on a hammock underneath the giant red oak tree with my guitar when Dad comes outside, pulling on a jacket.<p>

"I'm going into town, honey, do you need anything?"

'I wouldn't turn down a slushie...but it would melt, I guess, huh?"

"Nah, we have that little cooler in there."

"Oh, yeah. Well then yes. I would love a slush, please," I smile.

He kisses my forehead and smiles, before heading to the car and leaving.

I go back to playing my guitar, until my fingers get sore, so I switch to reading my book for an hour or so.

My iPod plays, and I can only hear it faintly because I pulled out my ear buds and dropped them onto my stomach. I hear a Death Cab song and remember that I was teaching it to myself, before that night when everything went upside down again.

I set my book on the ground and turn the sound up so I can hear it better as I try to play the chords by ear.

I think I've got it down when Dad walks up from behind me. I didn't even hear him get back.

He hands me a slush and smiles.

"Thanks," I say, and he just smiles. He's too smiley. He turns to go inside.

Frowning in confusion, I take a sip before setting it down and getting back to my guitar.

I'm in the middle of the second verse when someone leans on the back of the hammock, forcing my head to tip back. Suddenly I am inches away from Axel's face.

"Holy shit!" I cry, moving my guitar so I can jump out of the hammock.

Laughing, he comes around and wraps me in a hug, lifting me off the ground.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, beyond surprised.

He shrugs. "Figured I should see this Alabaman mansion," he replies, looking around. "You weren't kidding. This place is sick."

"It's amazing," I agree.

He turns back to me. "I missed you, bra. Thought I'd take a little vacation."

I smile, so happy to see him. The only younger people I've seen are my cousins, and the oldest, Cadence, is only 12.

"You and my dad planned this," I say, shaking my head.

"Guilty," he holds up his hands. "Figured you could use a good surprise."

"Definitely," I nod.

I see Mom and Dad come out of the house, onto the porch.

"Surprised?" Dad grins.

"Extremely," I call back.

"Well come on," Mom waves a hand. "Show the boy where he's stayin'."

We start to head towards the house, as Axel turns to look towards the car.

"Did you see my bag?" he asks. "I thought I left it over by the car."

"Oh, Jorge probably grabbed it," I reply.

"Jorge?"

"Yeah, he works for my Grandma. Kind of like a groundskeeper. And he takes care of the horses."

"You kidding me?" he tilts his head, raising his eyebrows. "Your grand-mama's got servants up in here?"

I stare at him. "Servants?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Shit," he shakes his head, setting back his shoulders as he walks back towards me. "I'm 'bout to feel like Bruce Wayne up in here. Some kind of sultan or some shit."

"Maggie is not going to give you a sponge bath," I say drily.

"That's true," Dad adds, somberly. "I've asked."

Mom grabs at his ribs, laughing at him.

We get up on the porch and Axel nods his head politely at Mom.

"How's it goin', Dr. Freedman? You got some sweet digs out here," he says, impressed.

"Well I'm glad you could come stay, honey," she grins, rubbing his back. She gets a kick out of Axel.

Maggie greets us as we enter the atrium.

"Well, Miss Kati. How are you likin' your surprise?" she grins.

"You were in on this?" I ask, surprised.

She kisses my cheek, cupping my face in her hands. "Child, please. Who do you think suggested it?"

She turns to Axel.

"And this is Axel, is it?" she smiles warmly, grabbing his face now and kissing his cheek. "What a handsome young man."

Axel looks slightly surprised by the greeting.

"Damn. You really know how to treat a brother," he says.

We laugh, as Jorge descends the stairs.

"I set the bag in the east room," he smiles, nodding once at Axel. "Welcome to Alabama."

"Hey, thanks, man," Axel holds out a hand, and Jorge shakes it. "I'm Axel."

"I am Jorge," he replies. "Please, let me know if I can help."

He smiles and then goes outside.

"Damn," Axel shakes his head, looking up at the expansive atrium and giant staircase.

"Come on," I say, smiling at his reaction. "I'll show you where we keep the Batmobile."

"Hey, don't tease a guy," he says, still ogling the house.

We leave Mom and Dad and Maggie and head up the stairs.

"Your grand-daddy some kinda king or somethin'?" he asks, looking around.

"Contract killer," I reply.

He scoffs. "Would explain your skills at paintball. All stealthy and shit."

I laugh. "He was a farmer. And came from rich stock. Kings have always been loaded."

"So he _was _a king," he jokes, knowing it's Mom's maiden name.

I open the door to the room he'll be staying in.

"Are you for real?" he widens his eyes, taking in the large room with its huge windows.

"You make it sound like you live in squalor at home," I laugh.

He nudges me playfully. "I've never been in a place like _this_."

I know what he means. This house is like nothing you'd see in LA. It was built in the 40s or something and has a nostalgic elegance, even with it's modern remodeling of certain rooms.

His bag is already on the bed. He walks around, taking it all in.

"Don't start acting all weird," I say, my hand on the door to the en suite. He looks at me and comes over. I open the door and he holds a fist up to cover his mouth.

"Sweet Jesus," he says. "I'm never leavin'."

He checks out the bathroom.

"I'll leave you two alone to get acquainted," I tease, patting his shoulder.


	47. Chapter 47

"Yo, I don't know about this, Kati," Axel looks dubiously at me.

I finish strapping a saddle onto Dixie and cock my head at him.

"Seriously? You're afraid of Dixie here?"

We both turn to look at the shy grey horse, flicking her tail lazily and looking bored.

It's just after breakfast, where Axel got his first taste of Maggie's eggs Benedict, after which he professed his love for her. Now I'm taking him horseback riding for his first time ever.

"Hey, I ain't scared," he says, defensively. "I'm...ambivalent."

"Heeyy," I smile. "Someone's been reading."

He rolls his eyes, but looks all pompous.

"Dixie is the sweetest horse we have. If this were Hogwarts, she'd be in Hufflepuff."

"What if she gets spooked? Rattlesnake in the grass or something?"

"Come on, there are no rattlesnakes around here," I roll my eyes. He noticeably relaxes.

"They're near the mountains. We only get cottonmouths and corals around here." I smile, teasing him, and he steps back from Dixie.

"Yo, that's it. I'm-a go hang out with your dad."

I laugh and grab his shirt with my cast-free hand.

"Oh, come on," I laugh. "I'm kidding. I've never come across anything more dangerous than the neighbor's earless, blind cat."

We stand in front of Dixie.

"Earless?" he raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah, she's the Evander Holyfield of barn cats. They have a gang. Now hook your foot in this stirrup."

He hesitates.

"No one's ever gonna date you if act like a sissy all the time," I tell him.

"Hey, I got no problems with the ladies," he replies, stepping forward.

"Oh yeah? I must have forgotten meeting your girlfriend, then. You leave her at the airport?"

He stops and turns back to me.

"Girl, I am just a man who knows what he wants. Don't judge me bein' picky."

I hold up my hands. "No judgement here."

He turns back to Dixie and lifts a foot into the stirrup.

"K, grab the horn of the saddle and just pull yourself up."

He easily manoeuvres himself up.

"Alright," he says, nodding appraisingly. "Kinda makes you feel all John Wayne-like."

I get onto Bluegrass, bareback.

"How come you got no saddle?" he asks, confused.

"I like it better without," I shrug.

"God damn, girl," he shakes his head. "You got somethin' for hospitals or what? Every five minutes you're makin' me think you're about to end up with some bruised or broken."

I laugh quietly as I get Bluegrass to move towards him and Dixie.

"I have _never _gotten into an accident while riding," I defend myself. "Okay, so keep your heels down and nudge her with them, and she'll go. Nudge left and tug on the reins to the left, and she'll go left. K?"

He nods, nudging Dixie gently, testing it all out.

"So where're we goin'?"

"Just through the pasture. There's a hill and some trails in the trees, too."

I move Bluegrass to turn around as Axel and Dixie come forwards. I wait until we're side by side.

"You good?" I ask.

He nods, getting comfortable. "Yeah."

We walk away from the house and through the pasture.

"You wanna go faster?" I ask.

"Later," he replies, concentrating on Dixie and the reins.

So we walk for a bit, talking about how terrible Twilight is and how we got a new paintball gun.

"How's it feel?" I ask.

"I haven't tried it out yet. Got no partner, do I?"

I laugh shortly. "Yeah, I guess your two team mates are either in jail or has migrated," I say drily.

It's the first time either of us have brought up Silas. His face hardens.

"Let's talk about somethin' else, alright?" he says.

I glance at him and he looks furious.

"What...is the matter with you?" I ask slowly, confused.

He stares forward. "I just don't want to talk about it. About him."

"Axel," I say, stopping Bluegrass in front of him and Dixie. "That night was not your fault. It had nothing to do with you."

"Oh yeah? Well I was the one who made him jealous, and go all fucking crazy. I should have been there! To know you were in _my _house, being-" he stops, breathing heavily. "I should have been there for you."

He's furious and he'll barely look me in the eye.

"So...what? You're just gonna keep believing that? Keep telling yourself that forever?"

"Probably," he says, glaring off in the distance.

"And how's that working out for you? Is it helping? Making you feel better; move on?"

He looks at me sideways. "No."

"Well then I think that's a pretty good sign that's it's bullshit. Like I told you."

We sit astride our horses in silence. Finally he speaks, and I turn to face him.

"I just...hate myself. Because I couldn't protect you."

"Yeah. I know you do. But this isn't elementary school anymore. You can't protect me from every school-yard bully. And I know that's not what this was, but...I just mean that I'm fine. I'm moving on, and you have to, too."

"You are not fine," he glances at me. "I heard you. Last night."

My brow furrows.

"I heard you. Screaming. And I ran out in the hall but your mom was already there, going into your room," he looks at me, sad and angry.

"You are not fine," he repeats.

"Well, I will be," I reply, after a second.

He sighs, looking down, and I hate that he's so upset.

We've known each other for over 10 years, and I know that it takes a lot to get him so down.

"What do you dream about?" he asks quietly.

I climb down from Bluegrass because my legs are starting to hurt.

"They're just nightmares. I wake up, and I calm down and it's done," I say as he climbs down from Dixie.

"Talk to me," he says, coming over to me.

I go and sit on the top rung of the short fence around the property.

"It's just...dark. And I can't move or breathe. Because there's this...weight on me...and it's him," I reply, looking down at my shoes.

"But they're less often now. It's getting better."

He leans against the fence, facing me.

"Promise?"

I look at him, his hazel eyes bright with worry.

"Yes," I nod. "Promise."

He nods and after a moment I shove him playfully.

"What, you think I'm some kind of baby? Can't handle it?" I smile, teasing him.

He gives me a look. "Hell, no. I've never met a stronger person in my life." He starts to gently shove me back, and I almost fall backwards, but he grabs me. I shriek and he flips me over his shoulder. I fight him off, laughing, until he sets me down.

His face is finally smiling again. He wraps an arm around my neck in a light headlock and kisses the top of my head.

"You can't just let a brother rest for a minute, can you? Always gotta keep me on my toes."

I wrestle myself free.

"Take it easy, Grandma. Your bloomers are showing."

He smiles, trying to look offended.

"Oh you did _not _just talk about my grandmama."

He tries to grab me but I run and haul myself onto Bluegrass, pulling my weight against her mane.

He stands on the ground, unimpressed.

"Now how am I supposed to beat that? I can barely get a foot in the stirrup," he shakes his head. "Some kind of freakshow," she mumbles under his breath.

"Oh, Axel. Someday, you will beat me at something," I tease, smiling.

He smiles, shaking his head, and heads over to mount Dixie.

When we get back to the house, there are two extra cars in the driveway. Two shiny Cadillacs. I recognize them immediately; Duke and Landry are here. As we get closer I see the boys, Cadence, Wyatt, Colby and Elliott, wrestling on the tire swings. Everybody else is on the porch.

"Who's that?" Axel asks.

"My uncles, and aunts and cousins. Looks like you're about to get a real taste of Alabama," I smile.

We wave when Mom calls out to us, and then continue to the stable to brush and clean the horses.

Despite being a newbie, Axel does a really good job cleaning Dixie. I finish Bluegrass and go over to Dixie's stall, where Axel is gently wiping her face.

"You're actually a pretty cool girl, Dixie. You're not scary at all, are you?" he says to her quietly. I can't help but smile.

"Hey, you ready?" I say, making him startle a bit. He jolts his head towards me.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I was just, uh...finishing up," he pets her, trying to play it cool.

"You love her," I stare at him.

He gives me a look and scoffs, putting the brush and cloth away.

"I do not _love _her," he mumbles.

He comes out of the stall and I look at him expectantly.

"What?"

"A gentleman always bids his lady good night," I reply seriously, glancing at Dixie.

He looks at me drily, but I raise my eyebrows.

He sighs and turns to Dixie.

"Peace, girl. Thanks for a wonderful day," he finishes, trying to look wistful and dramatic.

I laugh at him and he wraps me in a headlock as we leave the stable.


	48. Chapter 48

"Well, you look relatively unscathed. I guess Kati didn't take you down Dead Man's Curve," Dad says as we reach the porch.

"Say what?" Axel frowns.

"Oh, come on. It's just a trail," I roll my eyes at Dad, as my aunts Emma and Celia get up to greet us.

"How are you, sugar?" Aunt Emma asks, smiling.

"Good," I nod. "A lot better."

She kisses my cheek and Aunt Celia comes to hug me.

"You are lookin' just gorgeous, darlin'. This Alabama air does wonders for a person," she kisses my cheek.

"I know what you mean. It's been amazing."

I turn and put a hand on Axel's back.

"This is Axel. Axel, these are my aunts, Emma and Celia," I introduce.

"Well you are just adorable," Aunt Celia smiles, hugging him.

I glance at Mom who rolls her eyes in amusement. Aunt Celia and her chardonnay.

"Now, you are my niece's boyfriend? Because I thought..." Emma gestures towards me and we both clue in that she's referring to hearing about Silas.

"No, auntie, Axel and I have been friends since we were little," I explain.

Emma nods, understanding. "So sweet of you to come visit Kati."

Axel looks a bit overwhelmed with my aunts fawning over him.

"It's really great to meet you," he smiles politely. "Kati's always talked about how amazing it is here, so...thought I'd see for myself."

"Precious," Celia smiles, sipping her wine.

Duke and Landry move in to greet us as their wives retreat to refill their wine glasses.

"Hey, beautiful," Duke smiles, kissing my cheek, followed by Landry.

"Duke," he says, holding out his hand to Axel.

"Nice to meet you, sir," he replies.

He repeats himself for Landry and his greeting.

"You gonna keep an eye on this one? Can't seem to keep her outta hot water for a minute. Just like her mama," Landry says.

"I do my best, sir," Axel nods. "She's a firecracker."

"That she is," Duke playfully nudges me.

"Boys!" he calls out, and all four of my cousins look up and run over.

"Hey Kati," Cadence smiles. He hugs me.

"How's the archery coming?" I ask, ruffling his hair.

Last week we played for a bit, since he's been doing a lot of archery with his scouts and loves it.

"Three bulls-eyes yesterday," he grins.

"Champion," I say, holding up a hand. He hits it proudly.

"Axel, this is Cadence, and Wyatt, and Colby and Elliott," I point out each boy.

He holds out a fist and they eagerly bump their own against his.

"Boys," Axel nods, greeting them. "Kati told me she had four little cousins. But ya'll look like solid brothers to me."

Immediately he's won the boys over, who look at him admiringly.

"Ya'll wanna do some archery?" Cadence asks.

"Aw, definitely, little bro," Axel agrees.

Cadence runs off to get the bows and arrows from the nearby shed.

"Are you guys gonna get married?" Elliott, the youngest at seven, asks.

"Yo, little brother, I've been trying for years. Your cousin's a fine lady, though, and you know you gotta work hard for those ones. She's tough as nails."

I shove his shoulder as he laughs at his joke. Elliott nods solemnly, as though he understands all of this perfectly.

"I love Kati," he says.

"You'd be a crazy brother not to," Axel replies, grabbing Elliott's shoulder.

Cadence calls out from the red oak where he's setting up targets.

Axel looks at me expectantly.

"I'll be right there," I say.

I go and flop down on the porch swing beside Mom.

"You guys have a nice ride, baby?" Mom asks.

"Yeah. He did really well for his first time on a horse," I nod.

"Sugar, you know that boy is in love with you," Aunt Emma says, matter-of-factly.

I frown, confused.

"Axel," she says.

I laugh. "We've know each other since we were six. We're just close."

"No, child," Celia raises her eyebrows.

I shake my head.

"I'm going to shoot a few," I say, starting to get up.

Mom kisses my cheek. "You best study for a bit tonight. I've got a calc and Spanish test ready for you tomorrow."

She looks at me pointedly.

"I will."

I head over to where the boys are almost clambering on Axel to get him to help them with their bows.

The boys end up going to bed around ten, which was stretching it for Wyatt and Elliott, who were already asleep and had to be carried to a bedroom to be put to bed. Cadence and Colby aren't far behind, though they sneak into the guest room with a TV and watch movies, since our parents are all drunk on the front porch.

"Hey, baby girl," Mom smiles as Axel and I walk outside after gorging ourselves on dinner with Maggie.

Everyone else echoes a hello, clearly glassy-eyed and buzzed.

I flop down beside Dad as Axel leans against the porch banister beside Landry.

"I am so full, I might explode," I sigh.

Dad pats my belly. "Like father, like daughter," he smiles, teasing me.

"Don't touch it. It's angry," I refer to my stomach.

"That woman has a way with food," Axel nods.

"What's the likelihood of my stomach actually bursting open?" I ask Dad.

"Uh, very slim," he replies, tilting his head.

"That guy in _Seven_ had it happen to him. Did a face plant into a bowl of Spaghetti-O's."

"Never take Hollywood's word for medical knowledge," he replies.

"Good movie, though," Duke holds up his tumbler.

"Sugar, play us a song, won't you?" Emma drawls.

I make a face.

"Oh, come on, Kati-bell," Landry chides. "Just a little Southern love."

"There's nothin' little about it," I reply.

Aunt Celia is already handing me my guitar.

"Give it a rest, Landry," Mom says. "Give her a chance to decline."

"One day this girl will have people linin' up to see her sing. As her uncle, I deserve to see it first."

I give in. Landry demands a Garth Brooks song, but Mom hushes him and tells me to play whatever I want.

I play a few songs and then start to set my guitar aside.

"No, no, no!" Celia calls, but I shake my head.

"Nope," I shake my head. "I'm too lazy for this."

"You'll come back and play me some country?" Landry raises his eyebrows several times quickly.

"Yeah, yeah," I reply, waving a hand.

Axel and I head inside. We pass the kitchen, where Maggie has set out some snacks and lined up their bottles of gin and bourbon.

"You wanna get a little crazy?" I smile, raising an eyebrow.

"You? Drinking?" he cocks his head.

I shrug. "It's not like I've _never _drank. And besides, we're not at home. Let's do something totally different."

He shrugs, after a moment, in agreement.

We sneak out the back door with a bottle of bourbon, past the pool and the tennis court. We reach the fence that marks the property line.

A little ways off we can see the neighbours house. they seem to have had the same idea. Their house is lit up, there's music thumping and we can hear people laugh and talk.

We sit on the top run of the fence, looking out towards the neighbours.

"You know them?" Axel asks, cracking the bourbon.

"Kind of. My mom knows their dad. I met them a few times. They have twins and some younger kids, too, I think. The parents have come by and gotten drunk before. They came to Big Daddy's funeral."

He hands me the bottle.

"Well, here's to...Alabama," he improvises.

I laugh and take a swig, wincing as the alcohol burns my throat.

"You mean your first trip to Alabama," I say, holding out the bottle.

"And the first time I saw Kate Freedman shoot back some hard liquor," he smiles, taking a mouthful of the whiskey.

"Ooo!" he winces. "This shit is potent."

I laugh, taking the bottle as he passes it back.

"The only thing we're missing is some fireworks," I say.

"No kidding," he agrees.

I start to feel a warm sensation in my belly.

"I guess we'll settle for these," I say, after looking up and realizing the stars are crazy bright.

"Not bad," he says softly, taking a drink and passing me the bottle.

I take another mouthful and start to feel the slight light-headedness. I've only been drunk once. It was at Axel's and I slept over at Jamie's after, so my parents never knew.

"This is disgusting," I say, holding out the bottle.

"This is expensive," Axel replies, eyebrows raised. "Imagine how the cheap shit tastes."

"Ugh," I shudder. He takes a swig and we for a few minutes, passing the bottle.

We hear laughter and it gets closer until two girls and a guy appear through the tall grass, near the tree we're beside.

"Hey," the guy says. "Thought we saw lights on at the King place. We haven't seen much of anything go on since old man King passed on."

He has a thick drawl and he's drunk, making his accent even stronger. The two girls cling to each other, stumbling and giggling.

"Just my parents and my mom's brothers," I reply. "Having a little get-together."

"Aw, you're the lady doctor's kid," the boy says, pointing his beer bottle at me.

"That's exactly what it says on my birth certificate," I nod.

"I'm Brady," the boy introduces. "This here's my sister, Brayanna, and her friend Sophia."

"Kate," I say. "This is Axel."

"Well, shit," Brady waves a hand to beckon us. "Ya'll better come by for a minute."

Axel and I exchange a glance and then hop off the fence. I stumble a bit on the uneven ground, and being buzzed doesn't help.

"You gonna make it, Snooki?" Axel steadies me.

Offended, I hit his shoulder, but laugh.

"Never go there," I say, wide-eyed, referring to the Jersey Shore insult.

"Kidding," he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender.

We laugh and he hands me the bottle. It feels really light.

"Jesus," I look at him. "Did we actually kill half a 2-6 already?"

"Lush," he replies, keeping an arm around my shoulder as we follow Brady, Brayanna and Sophia.

"What are ya'll doin' in Alabama at this time of year? Brady asks. "Thanksgivin' is a few weeks away, yet."

"Just visiting," I reply.

Thankfully someone appears in the tall grass, spooking the two girls and preventing Brady from asking any more questions. The girls shriek and then run off with the guy towards the house, which is now only about a hundred yards away.

"Most everybody's around the fire," Brady points. "Everyone else is in the pool out back, or scattered 'round."

We finish stepping over some stray lumber.

"Ya'll need a drink?" he asks.

"Nah. Thanks, bro. We've got one," Axel holds up the bourbon.

Brady nods. "I best grab a beer. I'm out. Make yourselves at home."

He stumbles off, leaving Axel and I in the yard.

I'm definitely buzzed. Axel hands me the bottle and I take a huge mouthful.

"Mingle?" I ask, holding out the bottle.

He nods and takes a drink. It's been about 45 minutes and we're 3/4 done the bourbon. I feel giddy and light-headed.

We wander around the property. Their house is a bit more modern than Big Daddy's, with a back sunroom and a walk-out basement. Parties here seem to be much like those at home. There are kids playing drinking games, swimming, sitting in the hot tub and of course random couples are glued together, attempting to eat each other's faces.

"I have the oddest sense of deja vu," I say to Axel.

"Ain't nothin' off about it," he snorts. "Partyin' is a universal language."

We walk around passing the bottle until Axel tosses it into a pile of empties.

"Did we drink that whole thing?" I ask, incredulous and hammered. I stare at the pile.

"That, or it had a leaky bottom," Axel replies.

"Leaky bottom," I nod.

We walk around and meet people, watching a heated game of Battleship Shots. After 15 minutes one of the girls takes a shot of tequila and then pukes it up right after.

"Home sweet home," I say quietly to Axel. We both burst out laughing so we continue on, to meet some other people.

We come across four guys using a bow and arrow to shoot empty beer cans.

We watch as the one guy aims and totally misses.

Drunkenly, I chuckle softly, but not obnoxiously. Just because drunken archery is a crazy idea.

"You laughin'?" the guy asks.

"Drunk archery just seems really hilarious right now," I laugh. "Waayyy too hard."

I shake my head.

"Give it a shot," he says, holding out the bow.

"Nah," I shake my head.

"Scared of missing?" he teases.

My head falls to one side as I stare at him. After a moment I hold out my hand and he gives me the bow, laughing.

"All right. Let's see this."

He smirks.

"Alright, Robin Hood," I say, pulling an arrow from the quiver on the ground. "Target?"

I start to string the arrow and realize that if stringing it is this hard, I'm probably about to embarrass myself.

"Budweiser," the guy replies, referring to the can on the farthest fence post.

I roll my eyes. "Set me up for disaster," I mumble.

I aim, taking extra effort to do so, and fire.

The Budweiser can disappears in the low light.

The other guys and Axel cheer, and the other guys chide their friend, who drunkenly stares at me.

"Dude," he looks at Axel.

"I know, bro," Axel pats his shoulder.

Axel goes next and hits a can, and we stay until the remaining six are gone. The guys start setting up new ones, so Axel and I decide to wander around some more.

"Nice play, Freedman," he says.

"Fluke. Archery is really hard right now," I say, surprised.

"Yeah, weird," he laughs.

"How am I more drunk than you?" I stare at him.

"Because I've actually drank before."

"So have I," I reply indignantly.

"A shot of Jack at a party over a year ago does not count," he says.

"Ohhho, yes it does."

He shakes his head. "You're a real piece of work."


	49. Chapter 49

After awhile he looks at his watch.

"Alright, let's head back."

"What? Why?"

"Because we've been gone for almost two hours and your mama scares the shit outta me."

"Two hours?" I reply, stupidly. "It's been like, 20 minutes!"

"Only in drunk time," he answers.

"You're not drunk!" I accuse, as he navigates us through the tall grass.

"Not as drunk as you," he replies.

"Cheater," I say, stopping and looking at him.

He rolls his eyes and moves to haul me onto his back.

"Not cool, Mason," I say, falling limply against him.

"Get over it, Freedman."

We reach the house and he sets me down.

"Alright, just be cool. We'll go upstairs, get you to your room and you can pass out," he says calmly.

I salute him. I look back out towards the party when I hear loud noises. Axel opens the back door and stops.

"Shit," he whispers, as I remain facing backwards to try and see what's happening at the neighbors' house.

"There you are! Where did you two get to?" Mom asks brightly.

"The neighbors," Axel replies, his thumb pointing back towards the house. "They invited us over."

I don't hear her say my name until Axel nudges me and she says it again.

I spin around to face her and smile. I feel oddly happy to see her.

"Mommy!" I smile. She stares at me, setting down the gin she's about to pour. She raises an eyebrow.

"Axel, is my child drunk?" She says the word like it's filth.

Axel wrinkles his nose, not wanting to reply.

"Uh..." he mumbles, glancing at me.

I laugh. "Oh, Mom." I wave a hand at her, dismissively, as I start to pass Axel and enter the kitchen.

"You _are _drunk," Mom says, coming to stand in front of me.

"Yeah," I chuckle. "Aren't I just the worst?"

I walk over to the fridge as Mom looks from me to Axel.

"Dr. Freedman, I was with her the whole time," he tries to diffuse the situation. But all I care about is my sudden craving for a grilled cheese sandwich.

Dad comes inside and slows down, looking around, trying to understand what's going on and why Mom has her Angry Face on.

"Oh, good. You found them," he says. "Where were they?"

"Go talk to your daughter," Mom replies shortly.

Dad frowns, confused.

"Go look her in the face," Mom continues.

Dad comes over as I'm rummaging for butter and cheese in the fridge. I set butter on the counter as he reaches me.

"Kati," he says.

"Father," I reply, finding cheese.

"Kate," he replies, more seriously, waiting for me to face him.

"Cooper," I say, matching his tone and turning around.

He stares at me and turns to Axel.

"Really?"

"Dr. Freedman, I poured most of it out. She's only had enough to get her buzzed," he tries to explain.

"Come on, you guys," I roll my eyes, setting the cheese down. "We all know this wasn't Axel's idea. It was just a little bourbon! Kings love bourbon!"

I hold up my palms, looking for their agreement which does not come.

"Now will someone please tell me where that rye bread is?"

They all stare at me, but only Mom looks pissed. Dad looks unimpressed and Axel looks exasperated. All I really care about is the sandwich.

Duke and Landry come in front outside with empty tumblers.

"What's goin' on?" Landry asks.

They both look at me and laugh.

"Kati-bell, are you pickled?"

Mom hits him but he keeps laughing.

"Oh, come on, Charlotte. Don't be a hypocrite, now. You were just freshly 15 the first time you got into the bourbon."

He laughs with Duke as they fill their glasses.

"And if I remember, you had to be carried on home by Billy," Duke adds.

Annoyed, Mom gives each of them an unwavering stare, and they go back outside.

She turns to me with her hardened eyes, but I see them soften slightly.

"Go on up to bed. Both of ye'."

"I...really, need this sandwich," I say, looking at her as though she's just not getting it.

"Go," she says, raising her eyebrows and staring at me.

I sigh and start to head for the stairs, mimicking a Heil salute. Axel follows me and wrenches my arm down.

"Definitely not the time for Hitler references," he whispers.

"Can't really be angry, can we?" Dad sighs from the kitchen.

Mom sighs.

"Nope!" I yell from the stairs.

"Bed, Katelyn," Mom replies firmly.

"Full name," I say quietly to Axel. "Jeez."

I focus on getting up the stairs, which is surprisingly difficult.

"Don't be surprised if I'm what's for breakfast," Axel mutters as he leads me to my bedroom.

"Don't be ridiculous," I frown at him. "I distinctly asked for grilled cheese."

He rolls his eyes and throws open my door.

"You gonna make it from here, Lohan?" he teases.

"I will smother you in your sleep," I reply to the name-calling.

He laughs and I shove his shoulder before closing the door.

I stumble to the bathroom and chug three glasses of water before drunkenly tossing my shirt and jeans onto the floor.

I crawl into bed, suddenly exhausted, and when I wake up in the middle of the night, I find a glass of water on my side table


	50. Chapter 50

When I wake up the next morning, all I can think about is how thirsty I am, how much my head hurts, and how confused I am. I lay there, having already finished the glass of water that was left on my night table, and slowly remember last night. The bottle of bourbon with Axel, coming home, Mom's face when she realized I was drunk...

"Shit," I say under my breath.

There's a high likelihood that she's going to flagellate me this morning. I look at my clock. 10:48. So they're definitely up. And waiting.

My head pounding, I walk slowly to the bathroom and brush my teeth. Despite being intensely thirsty, I don't want any more water; it just tastes like the inside of my drunk mouth and I want about four litres of apple juice.

I twist my hair into a messy knot and pull on some sweatpants before slowly opening my door.

There's no one in the hallway and all of the bedroom doors are open, so everyone's up. Lovely.

As I get farther down the stairs I start to hear voices in the dining room. Mom, Dad, Axel and Maggie.

"Let's just...take it easy on her, okay?" Dad says. "We've both been there. It's not like she's 13 or something, and was out at some party. She was here, she was with Axel. She's alive."

It's quiet for a moment and I know he's waiting for Mom to say something. Because if she's mad, she's staying mad.

I poke my head around the corner and see the three of them at the table, and Maggie putting more toast on the table.

"Well," she looks up and smiles. "Look who decided to join the living."

"That's still to be determined," I reply, my voice a little husky.

"You look pretty...terrible," Axel says. I make a face.

"Thanks."

"Not like that," he rolls his eyes. "You just look like you're going to puke."

"Don't say puke," I groan.

I take my seat, where Maggie has placed a huge glass of water and a stack of toast.

Dad watches me with his expectant look and when I glance sideways at Mom, she's got her unimpressed face on and her eyebrow is raised. My fate is pending.

"You want some juice, darlin'?" Maggie asks.

"I would love nothing more," I reply with a tired smile.

"Lookin' a little worse for the wear," Mom finally speaks, sipping her coffee.

Everyone's quiet, waiting for her to go on.

"You proud of yourself?"

The eyebrow remains raised. This is Scary Charlotte; the woman her employees fear.

"I did manage to knock down several empty beer cans with a bow and arrow..." I say slowly.

The corners of Dad's mouth twitch, but he manages to remain serious.

"Kati," he gives me a look.

"No," I reply, sighing. "Not particularly."

"What were you thinking?" Mom asks, shaking her head.

I shrug, frowning as I think. "I don't know. I wasn't. I just...felt like it."

"And?"

"And...I feel like my saliva consists solely of bourbon, my head is in a vise, and I'm half scared of you killing me and half relieved, because not having to be awake all day would be great."

"Watch the sarcasm, Kati," she sighs, setting down her coffee.

"It's not like it's a regular thing, Mom," I reply, head tilted. "It's not something I plan on doing regularly. Or even _could _do regularly. Is it always this terrible the next morning?"

"Yes," Mom replies, without skipping a beat, as Dad opens and then shuts his mouth.

"I'm sorry," I look at Mom, my forehead in my hand. "For making you mad."

She inhales, folding the newspaper in front of her; all business.

"Well, I imagine the way you're feelin' is about as much of a punishment as you're gonna need."

I glance at Dad, waiting for more. It's not like I've ever been grounded or anything, but I've never done anything like this before. And they've never treated me like a petulant child, anyways. Still, I was expecting more fear on my part, and more Mom-looks on hers.

"Will there be a public flagellation?" I ask, rubbing my eye with the heel of my hand.

"No," she replies after a moment. I look up as she gets up from the table; surprised at her response. "Your daddy and I both know you are not lacking in the intelligence department. You're 16, you're gonna act 16. But...you know better."

She looks at me, and the way it makes me feel, makes all of the physical factors worse. I feel entirely disgusting. I rub my face; my eyes feeling like there are grains of sand in them.

When I look up she's almost beside me. She leans down and kisses my forehead.

"And don't forget," she raises an eyebrow quickly, up and down. "You have two exams today."

She turns and walks away.

Dammit. I look over at Dad, completely unimpressed.

"I think this is where Grandma would say something about that bull and messing with his horns," he replies, smiling.

I shake my head as Maggie sets apple juice in front of me. I down the entire glass.

After breakfast I take a shower, but it's short because standing up makes me feel like I'm going to die. I change into clean sweatpants and a t-shirt and go downstairs into the sunroom, where Mom is waiting.

"You ready?" she asks, coming towards me with paper.

"Absolutely," I reply drily. "Estoy tan emocionada."

I can see Axel out on the hammock, sleeping, and I'm insanely jealous.

"Forty-five minutes," Mom says, placing my Spanish exam in front of me.

I nod slowly and pick up a pen.

An hour and 45 minutes later I've finished the Spanish exam, and the calc test she followed it up with.

She comes into the room.

"Times up, sugar," she says. I hold up the calc exam.

She takes it and glances over it.

"How'd you do?"

"It's an A," I reply tiredly. "Being hungover doesn't erase the lifetime of calculus I've memorized."

I get up and stretch.

"You best go get some sleep," she says, softening. "You're lookin' like you feel like ten miles of bad road."

"Fifteen," I reply, rubbing my forehead.

She cups my cheek in her hand. "We understand each other?"

I nod. "Yeah, Mom. Seriously. It was just...a spontaneous...thing. You know me."

She smiles, small. "Go on," she gestures towards the stairs.

I have to close all of the curtains, because it's mid-afternoon and the sun has lit up my entire room. Exhausted, I fall into bed.

* * *

><p>Axel stays for almost two weeks. Dad and I drive him to the airport. I'm sad to see him go, but I feel like it won't be long until we're back in LA. I feel almost back to normal, since being in Alabama.<p>

"I think we should go home soon," I tell Dad on the drive home.

"Yeah?" he asks, glancing at me. I nod.

"Yeah. I mean, it's been, what, almost two months?"

"Almost," Dad nods. "You're ready to go back?"

I think for a minute, looking out at the pastures zipping by. "Soon. I mean, not tomorrow or anything. But...I miss Max and everyone. Y'know?"

"I know," he squeezes my knee. "If you're ready, then absolutely. We'll tell Mom, and we can decide on when to go."

I nod, and it's quiet for a few minutes.

"How are you feeling about school? Going back?"

"I don't know," I reply honestly. "I kind of like this arrangement."

"Better at your own pace?"

"Yeah. I love not having to wait with a finished essay for two weeks before the next one comes up. But I just...I don't want everyone staring at me anymore. After everything that's happened...I'm always That Girl lately. The one everyone hears about and talks about and...I dunno. I'm not running away from anything. I just feel more...calm, this way."

"I think this time away has really helped, sweetheart. Everyone needs a break sometimes."

"Yeah. But you must miss work."

"I do," he nods. "But it's there. It's waiting for me, for when I'm back."

"I just miss people."

"I know, honey. But you'll see them all next weekend."

I look at him, confused.

"Thanksgiving," he replies.

"Oh," I say, surprised. "Wow. I forgot. I can't believe it's almost December."

"Yep. Went by pretty fast here, huh?"

"So they're all coming? Here?"

"Yep. And we've got enough rooms to go around, so it'll be a weekend thing. They fly in Saturday morning and leave Monday night."

"That's awesome," I smile, excited to see everyone.

I've been talking to Violet using Skype, but it will be so much better to have everyone around. Familiar faces.

I try to make the next week pass quickly. I work on school assignments every day, filling up my afternoons with studying and essays and exams.

I'm working on my final essay for AP English one day, when Mom comes into the sunroom, smiling.

"Hey, baby," she says. I look up. "Have a look at this."

She hands me a piece of paper. My latest interim report card. 4.0.

I look up, smiling. "I guess you're a pretty good teacher," I reply.

She pinches my ribs. "I also happen to have a child genius."

"Well," I hold up my hands. "Obviously."

She kisses my forehead. "We are so proud of you, sugar. You're really excelling, despite everything."

"It's a good distraction," I reply, looking over the report card. "I can't believe I'll be done the semester by Friday. Can I just start the next one? Whenever I want?"

"Of course," she replies, taking back the paper and filing it in a folder she's been keeping. "We'll talk to Dean Kim as soon as we get home."

She sets the folder aside and comes to look over my shoulder.

"AP English?"

"Yeah. I'll have it done by tomorrow."

"Sounds good, baby," she runs a hand over my hair as she moves to get her purse. "I've gotta run in and get some groceries with Maggie. I'll see you later."

"Bye," I say, as she kisses my forehead on her way out.

Motivated now, being so close to being finished, I get back to my essay, getting most of it done before dinner.

"Violet called this afternoon," Dad says as we sit down to dinner. "They all got on the same flight. Saturday at 11:30, their flight gets in."

"Perfect," Mom says, unrolling her napkin. "Saves everyone a lot of hassle."

"They're just taking taxis to the house?" I ask.

"Yeah," Dad nods. "I said we'd come get them, but we can't exactly fit seven people? Car's not big enough."

"Eight," Mom holds up her knife, remembering. "Betsey doesn't want to go visit her aunt. Dell's bringing her here."

"Oh, good," I say. "I haven't seen her in forever."

"Yeah, Dell's been having a _really _fun time with her," Dad smirks.

"Why?" Mom asks, smiling at his expression.

"Just eight-year-old personality. She's got her own personality and her friends and is all about shopping and Justin Beaver, or whatever his name is."

"Gross," I reply.

"Maggie, will the rooms all be ready by Saturday?" Mom asks, as Maggie comes to sit down.

"Yes, Miss Charlotte. I've got everything set up for 'em. I put the two little ones in the room the little boys use."

"Oh, good, I was going to mention that. No point puttin' a single into the room with Pete and Violet. Lucas is used to sleeping in his own room. And I'm sure Betsey won't mind."

Dad smiles at her pointedly and she rolls her eyes.

"Well I can handle Betsey. She's about as spunky and sure-footed as Jamie was, and I handled her just fine."

I smile. Thinking of her hurts a lot less now, and it makes me smile to think of her and our times together.

"Well, we're all set then. With two rooms to spare."

"Two?" Dad frowns.

"Landry and Duke's old rooms. They're spending Thanksgiving with Emma's and Celia's families, so that'll free up some space. Y'know, in case someone gets kicked out of a room."

We laugh quietly.

"Well apparently there are no feuds on the go right now," I say. "I talked to Violet yesterday, and she said Sam and Addison were at it about something last week, but they're all good now."

"Always some kind of drama, ain't there," Mom shakes her head


	51. Chapter 51

"They're here!" Dad calls from downstairs.

I drop my guitar onto my bed and hurry out of my room.

The front door swings open as I reach the landing, and Pete, Violet and Lucas are first in, followed by Betsey, Addison, Sam and Dell.

Sheldon had gone to New York to visit his family.

Everyone greets Dad happily as he holds open the door. Jorge is eagerly bringing bags in with the help of the two taxi drivers.

Mom comes out of the sunroom smiling, as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, you," Violet smiles, setting down Lucas to hug me, and then Mom.

"Hey," I reply.

"How was your flight?" Mom asks, as the atrium bubbles with voices and laughter.

"Eh," she rolls her eyes. "Somebody does not like flying much."

She points a finger downwards to where Lucas is clinging to her leg.

Pete appears and the train of everyone greeting Mom and I, one after the other, begins.

"Hey, gorgeous," Pete smiles, kissing my cheek. "Charlotte, this place is incredible."

He kisses Mom's cheek as Addison appears, a huge smile on her face.

"Hey!" she cries. "I missed you!"

She hugs me tightly.

"I miss you guys," I reply. "So weird having to pick out the ugliest bags of the season alone."

"Tell me about it," she rolls her eyes. She points a thumb backwards towards Sam. "This one knows nothing about clothes."

We laugh and then she and Mom hug as Sam hugs me.

"Hey, beautiful. Look at you! You look fantastic, as always."

I smile. "Must be the air."

"Yeah, right," he laughs, reaching over to hug Mom.

"Hey, Betsey," I say as she appears from behind Sam.

"Hi Kati," she smiles happily, wrapping her arms around my waist. "You have horses here?"

She looks incredulous.

"We do," I nod. "We'll go see them later, if you want?"

She nods eagerly before hugging Mom.

"Look at you, all in one piece," Dell grins, hugging me.

I hold up my casted arm. "Almost."

"Still not off?" he grabs it.

"Few more days," Mom replies, and he kisses her cheek.

"Beautiful place, Char," he nods, looking around.

"My mama sure can decorate a room," Mom agrees.

Everyone stands around for a few more minutes until the taxi drivers announce that the last of the bags have been brought in.

Dad, Sam, Pete and Dell pull out their wallets, all trying to pay at once.

When the driver's leave Mom clasps her hands.

"Well, why don't we get everybody settled and then have some lunch?" she smiles.

Having already decided who would be sleeping where, Mom asks Jorge to show Pete and Violet to the west room, while Dad shows Addison and Sam to their room, across from mine. I lead Dell and Betsey upstairs to Dell's room.

"What about me?" Betsey asks after Dell has dropped his bags into his room.

"You," I begin, leading her towards her room. "Get to stay in the corner room. It's got really high ceilings painted with fake stars, and a bed that's actually dug into the wall. Like a little cave."

It's the room my grandma designed for my little cousins, so it's not very girly. Mom and Maggie went and got some pink and purple bedding, to brighten it up a bit.

The beds are spread out, two in one wall, two in the opposite one. I think this way, Betsey won't have to feel like she's stuck with Lucas, because she'll have a lot of space. And the room is big enough for two bedrooms anyway.

We reach the room and Betsey's face lights up.

"This is awesome!" she cries, running over to her bed.

There's a TV and a swing near her bed. Leave it to Grandma to go all out for her grandkids.

Betsey notices the other side of the room, where one of the beds has the sheets turned down, ready for someone.

"Who else is sleeping here?" She looks wary.

"Well, we were hoping you could do us a really big favor," I say.

She looks at me curiously.

"Lucas might get a little scared, so we were hoping you could kind of look out for him. I thought that since you're getting so grown up, you could be like a big sister for him."

The idea of her being the big sister, more grownup than a fellow child, seems to change her unsure attitude into one of confidence. She thinks about this for a second, and behind her Dell holds his thumb up happily.

"Okay," Betsey agrees. "I mean, he's just a little kid. I can take care of him."

"Thanks, Betsey," I smile.

She sets her backpack on the bed.

"Can we go see the horses now?"

"I think Aunt Charlotte has lunch ready, sweetie," Dell reminds her.

"I just want to look," she replies, and I see what Dad meant by the little attitude. It almost makes me laugh.

"How about we peek in on them? Then come right back inside for lunch. Maggie and Cherie and Emily made a _really _yummy lunch."

"Okay," Betsey agrees.

We head out of the room, and Dell goes to wash up.

We hear everyone getting settled into their rooms as we head downstairs.

"Do you have your own horse?" Betsey asks eagerly.

"Mmhmm," I reply, opening the front door. "Her name's Bluegrass."

"That is so pretty," she gushes. "One day, I want a horse, and she has to be white and I'm going to name her Stardust."

"Bluegrass was almost called Cassiopeia," I reply.

Betsey makes a face. "Why?"

"It was before I met her, and I was really into Greek mythology at the time. I loved the name. But then I met her, and got to know her, and she was more of a Bluegrass," I shrug.

"Like she didn't suit the other name?"

We reach the stable.

"Exactly."

I push open the gate and we walk around to the open doors, through the walkway. We see the horses poke their heads out to see who's coming.

"Oh my gosh, they are so beautiful," she remarks, wide-eyed.

"They really are," I nod.

"Look how happy they look to see you! Can we feed them?"

"Sure," I agree. I show her the bag where Jorge keeps apples.

"Which one is Bluegrass?"

"She's over there. The solid dark one."

"Oh my gosh. She's gorgeous! Which one should I feed?" She looks around excitedly.

"Whoever you like. Ritz down there is the notorious glutton. He got his name after I fed him an entire box of Ritz crackers when I was 10."

Betsey giggles. "You changed his name?"

"Well, he was still a colt. Big Daddy had just bought him so we were still getting to know him. He was called Buck before."

She giggles, choosing an apple. "Ritz is way better."

"Definitely," I nod.

We walk over to Ritz, who is eagerly sniffing.

"Just hold out your hand, with your fingers out flat."

She does, giggling as Ritz takes the treat.

"It's so tickly!"

We grab six more apples and I introduce her to Dixie, Democrat, Louise, Steve, Orion (for his spattering of white around his middle) and of course, Bluegrass.

"She is the prettiest one," Betsey stares at her, after giving her an apple.

"I think so, too," I smile.

"Can we ride them? Please?"

"Yep. Right after lunch. I'm starving."

"Me too," she decides.

I slide a hand down Bluegrass' nose as we leave the stable.

"I think I'd like to ride Louise," she declares.

Louise is a beautiful palomino, a clean light coat with white mane and tail. I imagine that's exactly how Betsey imagines her dream horse, Stardust. Her eyes had lit up when she saw her.

"Deal," I nod. "Louise is a perfect choice."

Happily, Betsey skips towards the house for lunch


	52. Chapter 52

"Sounds like we got everything," Mom nods, as Maggie lists off the menu the two of them have planned for Thanksgiving dinner.

"Sounds like enough for 30 people," Violet says, wide-eyed. "Then again, there are four grown men eating it, so..."

She finishes cleaning Lucas up after his breakfast before setting him on the floor, and he goes over to the main room where Betsey is watching a movie.

Mom, Violet, Addison, Pete and I are in the kitchen, lazing around the table. Dad, Dell and Sam decide to go check out the horses and look around the property, since Sam and Dell have never seen it.

"I don't...do, horses," Pete says, declining the offer to join.

"I would hope not," Addison makes a face.

"Hilarious," he replies drily, as the three others leave for the stable. "I just mean I'm not really into the whole...horseback riding thing."

"I didn't know that," Violet smiles.

"Well, now you do," he replies, clearly wanting to drop the subject.

"Go on," I say, chin in hand.

"It's nothing, I just don't like them."

"Them? Horse?" Mom raises an eyebrow.

"Yes. Horses. They're...unpredictable."

"You're scared," Violet stares at him, clearly amused.

"I am not scared," he retorts.

"The Doctor without Borders, has a border," Addison says, shaking her head as she drinks her tea.

"Alright, I'm going to watch the movie. A lot less judgmental in there," Pete replies, starting to leave.

"Oh, come on," Violet laughs, grabbing his arm to stop him. "We're just teasing."

He lets her pull him onto a chair, his embarrassment fading.

"Maggie, did you pick up some bourbon yesterday?" Mom frowns, her mental shopping list running through her head.

"Yes, Miss Charlotte. I reckon I got about six bottles," she nods.

"Six?" Addison makes a face. "Why would we need six bottles of bourbon?"

"We'll probably only drink a couple. But we needed to restock the bar anyway," Mom looks at me as she says this.

I shake my head slowly, rolling my eyes, and none of this goes unnoticed.

"What?" Addison asks, intrigued. "Why did you need to restock your bar?"

"This is not even close to accurate," I say, tilting my head at Mom.

"I wasn't saying that," she replies. "I meant that Duke and Landry went through about three bottles between the two of them."

"What...is happening?" Pete asks, looking from me to Mom.

Mom inhales, looking at me, before exhaling. "Kati...tried bourbon. Last weekend."

"Tried? That is so not the whole story here," Violet says, not buying it.

"Why is this a big deal?" I frown.

"When your 16-year-old child sees her way through a 2-6 of bourbon, it's a big deal," Mom replies, raising her eyebrows.

Pete, Violet and Addison all turn to look at me.

I stare at Mom. "Nice."

"You? Drank an entire bottle of bourbon?" Addison stares at me. She looks a little bit impressed.

"I did not, drink the entire bottle. Axel and I _shared _it."

"Only Axel carried you home sober, and you floated around the kitchen on a cloud of bourbon fumes."

Pete laughs loudly, slapping the table once.

"Wow. Kati," Violet says, nodding slowly and looking at me.

"What are you noddin' for?" Mom asks, hand on her hip.

"No," Violet shakes her head. "I'm not _nodding_, I'm just...I mean, it's kind of a...good thing."

"I beg your pardon?" Mom's eyebrow lifts.

"It's so...normal! It's normal, rebellious teenage behavior! When was the last time anything for you guys was normal?"

Addison nods at Violet's words, and Pete holds up a palm, looking at Mom as if to say, 'She's got a point'.

"I mean, obviously it would be a problem in almost any other situation," Addison puts in. "But I mean...it's Kati."

Her hand points towards me, and the other three look at me as though I'm an exhibit.

"It was not the first step on a road to becoming an alcoholic," I say drily, looking pointedly at Mom.

"Exactly," Violet agrees. "I say, let it go. But if it happens again..."

I roll my eyes. "It won't," I sigh, as Mom simultaneously says, "We're gonna have a problem."

It's quiet for a moment as Addison and Violet sip their tea, and then Pete lets out a short, loud laugh.

"It's funny," he explains, as everyone looks at him.

Violet shakes her head, going back to her tea.

"It was, actually," I nod. "I remember something about a grilled cheese sandwich. And feeling like I could probably fly if I tried."

Mom rolls her eyes as they chuckle softly.

"But no, I will not be going down that road again. I've never felt so terrible in my life. I could barely even stand long enough to take a shower."

"Ah, yes. The first hangover," Addison nods.

"And last," Mom adds.

"Anyways," I sigh, attempting to change the subject.

"Oh, Charlotte, I saw one of your old patients last week. Norah Saunders?"

Mom stops pouring tea and looks over quickly. "She alright?"

"Oh, yeah. She said she's doing well, actually. Just some tension headaches. But...what did you see her for? She didn't really offer much by way of an explanation."

"She, um," Mom begins, glancing at me. "She was brought into the ER. About a year ago...from off-campus, UCLA."

Everyone seems to know what this means, and nods slowly.

"What does that mean?" I ask, rolling a grape with my fingers.

They glance at each other before Mom clears her throat. "She's a rape survivor, sugar," she replies.

"Oh," I reply softly.

"I suspect she's still having trouble sleeping, as well?"

"Yeah," Pete nods. "All she said was that she's had a hard year, but that she's feeling a lot better. Just the headaches."

"Strong girl," Mom says, sitting down with her mug. "She'll be alright."

"Did we tell you that we found out what was wrong with Anna Saylor?" Violet asks.

"Cooper's patient? Always coming in with something new wrong with her?" Mom asks.

"Yep. Weird mom, creepy eyes?" Addison answers. Mom nods.

"Well the creepy-eyed mom is what's wrong with Anna," Violet says. "Woman was poisoning her. Remember all the stomach aches, late-night calls, headaches, weird vision problems?"

"Her mother?" Mom frowns.

"Munchausen's by proxy," Violet nods. "Finally got it out of them. Anna had no idea. Really, how would she? She's nine. But we've been having sessions, and she mentioned a few odd things, like her mother making her eat raw cake batter for breakfast, or how she told her mom she didn't like a particular cereal, but her mom kept feeding it to her. But when she had the same cereal when her dad made it, it didn't taste funny. So," she gestures, as though the next bit is obvious. "Figured out the mom was adding things to her food."

"For Christ's sake," Mom shakes her head.

"She could have killed Anna," Pete says. "Poisoning her, and then bringing her to the hospital every other day, demanding every test she could think of?"

"That's disgusting," I say, staring at the shiny cherrywood tabletop.

"That woman should be put away for life," Addison says.

"So where's Anna?" I ask.

"With her father. He had no idea. But then, we always knew the wife was overbearing and controlling. I'm guessing his words never reached anyone's ears," Pete replies.

"Some people should not be parents," Mom shakes her head.

It's quiet as we all sit with this information.

"Does Dad know?" I ask, since Anna was his patient. I feel guilty that he wasn't there to be her doctor recently.

"He knows, sweetie," Violet replies. "I told him last night, while you all were out on the porch."

I look away, thinking.

"No one knew what was going on," Addison says. "But, now we do. And now that psychotic mess is far away from Anna."

The front door opens and closes as Dad, Sam and Dell return, laughing as they enter the dining room.

"Whoa," Sam says, holding up his hands. "What conversation set this mood?"

"We were just talking about Anna Saylor," Violet replies.

"Oh, god," Dad shakes his head, coming to kiss Mom's head before sitting beside her at the table. "How messed up is that?"

"I think that takes the award for most messed up patient situation in like...months," Addison says.

"Not if you count Donny and Marie," I say. She cackles loudly.

"Oh, god. I forgot about that."

"That was just disturbing," Dell shakes his head.

"What time's dinner?" Dad asks.

"Nice segue," I nod.

"Not for hours," Mom replies, smiling at him. "You just had breakfast!"

"Uh, what about second breakfast?" he asks, as though this is a given.

"Do not go all Lord of the Rings. Please," I say.

"You've really embraced the role of Embarrassing Father," Addison says seriously.

"It's my job," Dad holds a hand to his chest.

Mom swats at him playfully.

"But seriously. I need to eat soon," he repeats. "Maggie!"

He sings her name loudly.

"Good lord, Cooper," she appears from the kitchen. "You couldn't carry a tune if you had a bucket with a lid on it."

He smiles.

"What are y'all needin'?"

"Do you mind if we sneak in there and make something to tide us over until dinner?" he asks, gesturing towards the swinging door to the kitchen.

"You think I haven't planned ahead for your belly?" she asks, swatting him with her dish towel. "You just go on outside and wait. I'll let you know when it's ready."

She heads back to the kitchen.

"Thank you, Maggie," Dad calls. She waves a hand and goes through the door.


	53. Chapter 53

While dinner's being prepared, we all go sit out back by the pool, while Betsey, Lucas and Dell swim. Everyone else lazes around in lounge chairs, sipping Maggie's famous lemonade.

"How long's Sheldon gone for?" Mom asks.

"Just the weekend," Violet replies. "He wanted to come here, but he said he couldn't avoid his family for another holiday."

"Understandably," Pete agrees, swigging his bottle of beer.

"Speaking of Sheldon, you know how he knew that guy who's president of the Chadwick school board?" Violet asks.

"Richmond?" Mom asks, referring to the man she's met at school functions before.

"Yep. Sheldon talked to him and put in a good word for us, for Lucas. I think he'll get into their pre-K program."

"That's fantastic," Mom replies.

"I'm so relieved," Violet nods. "Looking for the right one is exhausting. I didn't even know pre-school was this intense."

"Everything's intense at Chadwick," Mom replies drily.

There's movement out of the corner of my eye, and, thinking it's Maggie, I turn to see. But standing at the corner of the house on the walkway is Amelia. Taken aback, I blink, confused.

"Uh," I start, but don't know what to say.

"What is it, sugar?" Mom asks, looking at me.

"Amelia's here," I reply, shocked.

All at once, everyone looks up to see her. She awkwardly stands there, not even twenty feet away.

"Um," she begins, uncomfortably. "Happy Thanksgiving."

Mom walks over and, to Amelia's surprise, wraps her in a hug. After a second Amelia drops the bag she's carrying and hugs her back.

"You look great," Mom says, after pulling away and holding Amelia's shoulders.

She blushes, glancing over at the rest of us, all sitting or standing stupidly.

I go over and hug her. She squeezes me.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

I let go and look at her, smiling. "I know."

Her eyes gloss over and then everyone is coming over to see her.

By the time everyone has hugged her, she has tears streaming down her face.

"When did you get here?" Mom asks.

"Just now. I heard you guys came here for Kati, and then that everyone was here for Thanksgiving, and I just..." she swallows, glancing around at everyone. "I'm...I'm so sorry."

Everyone stands around, awkwardly, quietly.

"I...said some really terrible things. I wasn't myself...and I can't believe the things I said, and how badly I've hurt you. You guys are...my family. And I'm so, so sorry. I know that's not enough...I just hope you'll let me...make it up to you."

Addison walks over with damp cheeks and hugs Amelia again.

"I'm so happy you're here," she smiles.

This simple sentence seems to alleviate so much of the weight on Amelia's shoulders. Her relief is palpable. She still looks heartbroken, but you can also see how she feels the slightest bit better.

"We all are," Mom adds, squeezing Amelia's hand.

I glance up and look at everyone. Some still look a bit angry with Amelia, but still, no one is wanting to turn her away.

After a moment, Mom tries to smile through her glassy eyes.

"Well," she sighs. "Why don't we get you settled upstairs."

She puts an arm around Amelia's shoulders and starts to lead her away.

Wordlessly, Addison and I follow.

Mom opens the door to one of the two spare bedrooms still left, and gently pushes against Amelia's back.

After setting her bag on the bed, Amelia turns to us, her eyes swimming.

"Charlotte, I..."

"I know," Mom replies, rubbing her arm.

"I said the most terrible things," Amelia shakes her head, looking down. "I wish I could take it all back...change everything."

"We all wish that sometimes," Addison replies softly. "We're just glad you're here, and healthy."

"Sixty days?" Mom asks, touching a keyring on Amelia's keychain.

"Sixty-four," she replies, holding up the keychain.

"That's amazing," Mom replies. "I'm so proud of you."

This only seems to make Amelia feel worse; having someone she hurt, be so proud of her.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

"We know you are," Mom replies gently. "We all mess up. I know exactly where you are right now. Been there myself. You can't give up now. You keep yourself clean, and you focus on moving forward, and everything is goin' to be just fine."

Amelia nods, wiping her eyes.

"We've all done or said something that's made us feel terrible," Addison says, trying to make her feel better.

"Not like this," Amelia shakes her head. "You guys haven't hurt me."

"Focus on today," Mom says. "Think about now. If all you think about is what sucks, you'll never be able to move forward. We _all _make mistakes."

It's quiet for a moment as Amelia breathes, trying to calm down.

"I drank a bottle of bourbon. Basically by myself," I say, trying to ease the tension.

Mom looks at me wide-eyed as Addison lets out a short laugh and Amelia stares at me.

"What? You said we all make mistakes! That was a mistake," I say to Mom. I can see she's trying to stifle a smile, but with Addison chuckling and then Amelia breaking out in a smile, she fails. The three of them laugh. I don't think Amelia's laughed in months.

She comes over and hugs me, tightly.

"Oh, Kati," she sighs. She holds my shoulder, smiling. "I missed you."

Addison wipes her eyes, wet from crying and then laughing.

"Why don't you take a shower," Mom says to Amelia. "Probably feel good after the plane ride."

Amelia nods, smiling gratefully.

Addison hugs her again before the three of us leave, giving Amelia some privacy.


	54. Chapter 54

Mom, Addison and I go back downstairs. Outside, everyone looks at us expectantly.

"How is she?" Dad asks first.

"She seems great. Healthy," Mom smiles, relief painted on her face.

"She feels terrible," Addison says, sitting next to Sam.

"I can imagine," Violet nods.

"Well," Mom says, clasping her hands. "She's here now. She's clean-64 days-and she's gonna want to move forward. So let's all just...help her."

When Amelia comes outside half an hour later, showered and changed, she seems more relaxed but still wary of everyone, as though she's afraid she's going to be raked over the coals. But it doesn't come. Everyone's either forgiven her, or are on their way there. And no one is interested in holding a grudge. We're all just glad she's sober.

Maggie makes dinner; a huge genuine Southern supper, complete with fried chicken, biscuits, gravy, grits, okra...

"Jesus. You weren't kidding, Kati," Amelia says after her first bite of chicken.

"We don't kid about Maggie's chicken," I reply straight-faced.

Everyone chuckles and Maggie winks as she refills my lemonade.

Everyone chats as we eat.

"So, Amelia," Pete says after a few minutes. "When are you coming back to work?"

It gets quiet as we all wait for her answer, and Amelia stares, stunned.

"Um," she begins, stumbling over what to say. "I didn't..."

"What? Think you could come back?" Violet asks.

"Well..."

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course you can come back. Your office is waitin', and besides...we're family," Mom replies matter-of-factly.

Amelia blushes slightly and a small grateful smile relieves her worried face.

After another minute of quiet, Amelia clears her throat.

"So, Kati," she grins. "Tell me about this bottle of bourbon."

* * *

><p>The next couple of days we fill up with delicious food, horseback rides, swimming and catching Amelia up on what's happened. There are clients she's missed out on and other people's clients she's curious about. There's something so comforting about having everyone together (except Sheldon, who couldn't make it) and catching up.<p>

Maggie leads the cooking of a huge, amazing Thanksgiving dinner, and we manage to fit everyone at the big dining room table.

After we're all seated, Amelia stands up.

"I just want to thank everyone for...for everything you've done. For seeing me falling down that hole and doing everything you could to pull me out. I'm just so grateful, and I...well, thank you. All of you," she finishes, her eyes glassy.

Touched, everyone smiles at Amelia and she sits down.

"Well," Dad says, picking up utensils. "Let's carve this bird!"

* * *

><p>Two cabs arrive the next morning to pick everybody up. Goodbyes are warm, but I don't feel like I have to say goodbye for that long. Once everyone's gone and Mom settles onto the porch swing to read, I sit beside her and cross my legs.<p>

"Mom," I start, rubbing the irritated skin of my hand where my cast was, only days ago.

"Mmhmm," she mumbles.

"I think..." I start, examining a spot where the bone is slightly more raised than before. A weird break. "Can we go home?"

She looks up. "California?"

I nod.

She considers me, her eyes seeing right into me. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," I reply. "And...what I need. I think. I mean, I don't think coming here was running from anything. I'm glad we're here and I think...it helped."

"So do I, darlin'. You seem more yourself than you have in...a long time."

She pushes a lock of hair behind my ear.

"I just think I'm ready to go home. Maybe not...to school. I mean, I like doing it at my own pace."

She listens.

"I just want to be at home. I want my bed, my stuff...my friends."

She smiles. "Your daddy mentioned it. So if you're ready, then we'll go."

I smile; after a second I nod. "I'm ready."

* * *

><p>It's faster than I thought it would happen. The next morning we're all packed and ready to go.<p>

Maggie squeezes me tightly. "You come back and see me soon, you hear?"

I smile and she kisses my cheek, hugging me tightly again.

I hug Jorge and he promises to take extra-special care of Bluegrass.

"Thanks, Jorge," I smile. "Thanks for taking such good care of her."

"Ah, it's no worries, Miss Kati. Bluegrass is my favorite, too," he winks and heads back to the stables.

"We've got everything?" Dad asks again.

"Triple-checked the place last night, honey. If anything's left behind, it's good and hidden somewhere," Mom replies.

She hugs Maggie; lets her fuss over her and kiss her cheek, like she's 13 again.

"Next time ya'll come back, don't be lookin' so skinny. Nearly gave me grey hairs, worryin' about tryin' to feed ya'll enough."

"Just good genes," Mom smiles.

Maggie smiles, touches Mom's face, and then hugs Dad.

"I'll try not to look so skinny, too," he promises.

"Child, please. You might have to let out them pants, the amount of chicken I've been feedin' you."

She chuckles and kisses his cheek.

"You make sure you let me know ya'll get home safe," she tells Mom.

"We will, Maggie," she promises.

Maggie nods.

I help Nigel into the car and crawl in after him. With one last wave and smile at Maggie, we drive away.

The drive to Alabama felt timeless. Like I never knew where we were, or what time it was, but suddenly, we were there.

The drive home to California is different. I'm aware enough to take in my surroundings, and recognize places and landmarks I haven't seen since I was 11; the last time we made the drive instead of flying. It's refreshing and beautiful. Having Nigel asleep on my lap and the window down is relaxing, and I just sit there and think about the last 10 months. A year ago, what would I have said if someone told me that within 12 months, Jamie would be dead, Silas would have tried to...well. Y'know. I wouldn't have believed it. I also wouldn't have believed that I'd be home-schooled. I've always loved school. Part of me misses it, but the bigger part of me feels like I have to leave Chadwick behind. I just have to. First Jamie, and then Silas, and now...I couldn't go back to what it used to be. Regardless of Axel and Max and everyone still being there...I could never feel the same there. Besides, it's exciting knowing that I'll be finished high school months earlier than expected. It gives me extra time to prepare for Berkeley. It gives me extra time to get past everything. Including what's coming up, in a matter of weeks.

When we pull into the driveway, a couple days later, the porch light is on.

"Who's here?" I ask, confused.

"Violet probably just stopped by the freshen the place up. She was stopping in to water plants and take in the mail," Dad replies.

I open the car door and step out, turning to help an excited Nigel get down from the seat. He hurries around the lawn, smelling everything in front of him.

Already it feels good to be home. I grab my bag, my guitar and a duffel bag and head towards the front door. Mom's already there, unlocking the door. She smiles at me as she pushes it open.

"Home," she says.

I smile and go inside when she pushes open the door.

Violet was definitely here. She's left some windows open, the light above the island is on, and the island itself has a giant vase of Easter lilies and white hibiscus; mine and Mom's favorites.

Nigel noses around, smelling his house. He sniffs his bed, to see if someone else has been in it, and moves on to sniff at some of the toys we left behind.

Dad comes in the front door like a pack horse, bags and bags in his arms. He dumps them in the foyer and heads back outside.

"One more load," he says.

I head for the stairs, deeply breathing in the familiar smell of home. Vanilla, fresh laundry...and right now, Violet's flowers. At the top of the stairs, I turn right. My door is open but I can't see much. It's around 11:00 pm and the only light is coming from downstairs in the kitchen.

I flick on the light and my purple walls appear, deep and vibrant. I smile just seeing my familiar room. The bay windows, the shoes and bags I left sitting around, my bed. Nigel barrels up the stairs, pushes past me, and sniffs the room.

"Happy to be home, buddy?" I grin.

Happily, he looks up at me, panting, before continuing his inspection of my room.

I dump my bags on my bed and set my guitar case against the wall. Out of habit, I go and move my computer mouse. But the screen doesn't light up. Obviously, I think to myself. Dad shut everything off when we left.

I reach around the monitor and turn on the computer.

I look around and feel so much better. I sigh and flop down onto the bed. Nigel jumps up beside me.

"Interesting," I say to him. "I thought you needed help to get up here?"

He smiles, panting, and I can't help but smile back.

"Let's go downstairs," I tell him, and he races ahead of me

He nearly takes out Mom's legs on his way to the stairs.

"Good lord," she says, staring as he barrels down the stairs. "Boy sure chooses his moments to be fast."

I laugh and go downstairs, where Dad is attempting to turn himself into a pack horse.

"Dad," I laugh. "Here."

I slide two of my bags down his arm.

"I could do it," he tells me. "I could carry every bag, plus you and your mother. No problem."

"And I don't doubt that," I reply.

I smile and head for the stairs as he follows.

"This California air is like crack for Nigel," he says, as Nigel hurries past us, causing Dad to fall against the wall.

"He's very excited," I agree. "Didn't even need a hand to get on the bed."

"What a guy," Dad laughs.

I dump my bags in my room and Dad goes to drop his and Mom's in their room. He comes back with one bag.

"You had five bags, your mother had four...I had one. One bag," he stares, holding out the TNA bag.

"But you're so good at carrying them," I say.

He rolls his eyes sarcastically, smiling.

"Hungry? I could eat the entire menu at Bulan Thai right now."

"Ohh," I agree. "Will you please order me some Pad Kee Mao? I need to reestablish our friendship, it's been so long."

He kisses my forehead and heads back to his room.

"Honey? You want Bulan Thai?" he calls.

"I want the entire menu!" Mom calls back from their closet.

He turns and grins at me.

I open each bag and dump it's contents on my bed. Nigel sniffs at the bag as I drop each one on the floor, but smelling like the exact place he's been for the past couple months, he ignores them and continues to sniff around the carpet and heads for the closet.

I'm in the middle of making piles when Mom comes in, sighing and tying her hair back, having just showered and changed into the baggiest sweats she could find.

"What do you got going on in here?" she stares at the bed.

"Clean, dirty," I point to opposites of the bed. "Clean pants, clean shirts, clean whatever else. Dirty everything, divided into colors, whites and dry-clean only."

"Your sense of organization is 100% King," she grins. She reaches over and grabs the pile of dry-clean only.

"I'll add this to the pile we've got goin'," she replies, and goes to drop it in her room.

She comes back with her laundry baskets and starts loading my stuff into them.

"We've got like, 17 loads of laundry here," I stare.

"At least," she agrees.

I stuff the rest of the dirty clothes in my own laundry basket and follow her downstairs, dropping the baskets in the laundry room.

Back upstairs, I start putting the clean stuff away. By the time I'm almost finished, Dad calls up the stairs that the food is here.

"Two minutes," I reply. Because I can't stand leaving all of this mess here, when I know I'm just going to want to go right to bed when I get back here. I put away all of the clean clothes and then head downstairs, where Dad is browsing through PVR'd episodes of Saturday Night Live and Mom is grabbing bottles of water and plates from the kitchen.

Sinking in the couch is the greatest feeling I've all day.

* * *

><p>The next morning it takes me a second until I remember that I'm at home-not in Alabama. It's bright outside and I can hear Mom and Dad downstairs. I look over and see that Nigel is still here, loyally snuggled into my legs. I check my alarm clock and see that it's almost noon.<p>

"Holy shit," I say groggily. Nigel wakes up and looks around, yawning. "Buddy, we slept for almost 12 hours."

He yawns again and then looks at me tiredly.

Stiff from lying so still for so long, I slowly get up and stretch. Nigel follows suit, stretching and groaning as he stands up. I look out my window, down into the backyard, and see Mom and Dad at the patio table, paperwork and coffee surrounding them.

I take a shower, brush my teeth and change into a loose t-shirt and some capri sweats. I grab a glass of orange juice from the fridge. Looks like Violet restocked that, too.

Nigel hurries outside when I slide open the patio doors, and Mom and Dad look up.

"Decided to join the land of the livin'?" Mom grins.

"Twelve hours," I raise my eyebrows. "Jeez."

"You were exhausted, baby. Long few days," she replies, running a hand over my hair as I sit down.

"Long year," Dad replies, getting up. He kisses my forehead and heads inside to fill his coffee cup. "You hungry, honey?"

"Not yet," I reply. "Thanks, though."

"That's about as soundly as you've slept in ages," Mom says, leaning back in her chair.

I see the paperwork on the table is all patient files. I smile at her, because she's giving me the look of Worried Mother.

"Yeah," I nod. "It was good."

Her forehead smoothes out a little. "Good," she smiles.

"What are you working on?" I ask, setting down the glass of juice.

"Oh, just figuring out where I'm at with any patients who are still mine, but have been seeing another doctor at the practice or elsewhere. Trying to decipher some of this chicken scratch on their files."

I lean forward. She's right. I couldn't read the one file if someone paid me.

"When were you thinking of starting your second-semester work?" she asks, scribbling something on a file.

"Um," I think. "Tomorrow? I was going to go see Axel today."

"I thought you'd want more of a break, sugar. Semesters at school get a good two weeks," she looks at me.

I shrug. "It doesn't really matter when I'm doing it at home. I can do an exam at 9 am or 10:30 at night."

"I suppose," she replies. "Why don't you take a few days at least? Go visit your friends, have some fun, and we'll start on Tuesday."

"Okay," I shrug. "Is it going to be hard? Now that you'll be back at work?"

"Nah," she waves a hand. "I can just drag you into the office with me and make you work there. Under the watchful eye of several doctors."

She smiles and winks. I shake my head, smiling.

Dad reappears with fresh coffee and a plate of fruit.

"Hungry now?" he grins.

"Mm. Yep," I reply.

After breakfast I go get dressed and put on a bit of makeup.

"You heading out, baby girl?" Mom calls.

"Yeah, Axel should be getting out for lunch in 20 minutes. I'm just going to wait in the parking lot."

She pokes her head in my room. "You should go say hi to your friends, darlin'. He isn't there. He won't be anywhere."

We both know who "he" is.

"I know," I smile, but I don't want to walk up to a crowd on school grounds. It will only draw stares.

She comes in and kisses my cheek. "Drive safe. Text me later."

"I will," I reply.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," I reply, and head down the stairs.


	55. Chapter 55

I drive to Chadwick, pushing down the churning feeling in my stomach and pretending I'm not actually constantly looking around to see if Silas is there. Driving in the car beside me, crossing the street, racing by on a bike...but he's not. And I know he's not. So I make myself relax and pull into the Chadwick student parking lot. I find Axel's usual parking space, and smile when I see his car. I park beside it and check my phone. He should be leaving for lunch in five minutes.

I haven't talked to him in a couple days; he doesn't even know I'm back in LA. When I hear the bell ring, I get out of my car and go lean against the hood, waiting for my friends to arrive. I stand there and stare at the east wing of Chadwick. I feel pangs of longing; missing my senior year. But mostly I feel relief. To be finished with this painful place.

"Shit, girl," I hear a smiling voice. "When did you get back?"

I turn and see Axel, a huge smile on his face. He grabs me and hugs me tightly.

"Just last night," I reply, returning the hug.

"Damn good surprise, Kate," he grins, pulling back to look at me. "I'm glad you're back. And whole again."

He gestures to my cast-free arm.

"Me too," I smile. He hugs me again and we hear voices.

"Is that Kati?" I hear Max.

"No way! When did you get back?" Jenelle smiles, and they come forward to hug me.

"Just last night," I reply. They release me and Chase moves in for a hug.

"We miss you, Freedman," he says.

"I miss you guys, too," I reply. "Feels like it's been forever."

"Well," Max makes a face. "It's been a really...fucked up year."

"Very true," I nod. Axel slings an arm over my shoulders, squeezes.

"Well, shit. Let's get outta here," Chase shrugs, grinning.

"I'm game," Max agrees.

"Me too," Axel says.

Happily, we all pile into my car, because, let's face it: I'm still not up for getting into anyone else's, except my parents'.

"Where's Megan?" I ask, as I put the car into drive.

"Still in Sacramento," Jenelle replies. "You know her family. Every holiday gets drawn out into a week-long event."

"Thanksgiving was last week," I laugh.

"Try telling her grandma that," she replies.

"Where are we going?" I ask, pulling out of the parking lot and getting on the main drive.

"Let's hit the pier," Axel suggests. "They got the best food trucks."

"Oh my god, Kati, you missed the opening of this new one. It's this Italian guy and he makes the greatest sandwiches you will ever eat," Max rolls her eyes emphatically.

"Sold," I reply. "'Italian' and 'sandwich' are magic words when placed together."

As we drive to the pier, they fill me in on the latest news at Chadwick. Who cheated on who, which couples broke up.

"And Cranston," Jenelle says, shaking her head. "You should have seen him after...well. That night."

I see Max elbow her through the rearview mirror.

"What?" Jenelle looks confused.

"It's fine, Max," I say. "Really. I'm fine."

"Sorry, Kati," Jenelle says genuinely. "I just mean, everyone missed you, and everyone had your back. Cranston arranged this whole assembly about rape and abuse and...it was intense. He was livid."

"I miss that sarcastic Democrat," I say.

"Oh, and Victor was asking about you. Weeks ago, I mean, but I forgot to tell you. He was wondering where you were," Max says. "He was really worried."

"He's such a sweetheart," I reply. "I miss that kid."

"You should come to prom," Axel says suddenly.

It gets quiet.

"What?" I make a face.

"You should. Why not? You're still a Chadwick student. You have friends who want you there."

I hadn't even thought about prom, and I definitely haven't considered going.

"I don't..." I begin, shaking my head slowly.

"Come on, Kati," Max says. "You have to."

I pull into a parking space near the pier.

"Let's just...eat," I say, shutting off my car.

We all get out and head towards the pier. Axel swings his arm around my shoulders.

"You've gotta come," he says seriously. "You're my girl. We can't not spend the biggest party of the year together."

"I wouldn't miss your year-end party," I tilt my head. "But..."

"Just think about it," he asks. "Come with me."

He gives me the pathetic puppy-dog look, so I laugh and shove his chest.

"Come on," I laugh. "No faces."

But he puts a frown on, adding to his forlorn look.

"Fine," I give in, and he squeezes my shoulders. "I will _think _about it."

He smiles and holds out his fist. Rolling my eyes, I bump it and he hurries us forward to catch up with everybody else.

* * *

><p>After lunch I drive over to St. Ambrose, after Mom texts me that I need to come for a follow-up Xray. I navigate through the halls until I find her office. I knock twice and open the door slowly.<p>

"Cooper and I've been married 17 years and we're still having sex three, four times a week," I hear Mom say, as I come inside and see her and Amelia sitting on her couch.

Horrified, I make a face, staring at her. "Gross."

They look over and Mom rolls her eyes. "I don't think it's a secret, baby girl," she laughs.

"I feel sick," I frown, staring at the floor.

"But they're so good at it," Amelia teases, getting off the couch and giving me a quick hug as she passes me. "Look at you."

"Stop," I shake my head slowly. "Please."

She laughs and heads towards the door.

"I'll see you later, Charlotte," she waves.

After she's gone I turn and stare at Mom, complete distaste written all over my face.

"How was lunch?" she asks pleasantly.

"Quite possibly on its way back up," I reply.

She tilts her head and walks over to me, dropping a pen into her white coat.

"Come on," she laughs. "Let's get that hand looked at."

She opens the door and we head down the hallway.

"So how's everyone doin'?" she asks.

"Good," I nod. "Megan wasn't there, but everyone else was. It was good to see them."

Mom smiles. "I'm glad you went and saw 'em."

I nod.

"Axel...asked me something," I say after a minute.

"Mmhmm?" she turns and looks at me.

"He...asked me to prom," I finish.

Mom gives me a huge smile. "Darlin', that's wonderful."

"Is it?" I wrinkle my forehead. "I mean...I wasn't planning on going. I don't...it would feel weird."

"Going with Axel?" she asks, surprised.

"No, going...at all."

"It's your prom, baby."

"I know, but...hasn't exactly been a year of...planning for prom."

"Well," she considers. "Maybe it's time you do."

I shrug.

"You're still a student there. You absolutely deserve to go and experience your prom, sugar."

I nod. "Maybe."

"Well. Think about it?" she tilts her head.

"I will," I nod.

We reach Xray and go inside.

"Sheila, I just need five minutes," Mom calls over to the nurse in the room. She nods and Mom sits me at the machine, placing the drape over me.

"Do you think it healed weird? Because of that bump?" I ask.

"No," she replies. "I think you broke a lot of tiny bones and that bump'll go down in time."

She places my hand and moves back to take the Xray, and then takes two more at different angles.

Ten minutes later she sticks them up in the light in the Xray tech room.

"Beautiful," she grins, staring at the Xrays.

I nod. "Looks...almost normal." I glance down at my hand, flexing it. "It looks smaller."

"Just a little atrophied," Mom assures me. "It'll be fine. 'Specially if you keep playing on that guitar like you've been doin'."

"Guitar therapy," I reply.

"Exactly," she kisses my forehead and pulls down the Xrays. "Let's go put these in your file. And then do you want to come grocery shoppin' with me?"

"Sure," I agree.

"Your daddy drove us both here, so he can take the car home. I'll text him and let him and know, and we can head out.


	56. Chapter 56

On Tuesday I'm supposed to start my second semester. Mom and Dad leave for the practice before I'm even out of bed. I wander downstairs slowly, pulling on a sweater and yawning as Nigel stumbles down the stairs beside me.

"Where are our roommates, buddy?" I ask groggily.

The only thing he's interested in is getting outside, as he stands by the patio doors and stares at me. I let him out and go back to the kitchen, opening up the fridge. Stuck to the Tropicana container is a Post-it from Mom, telling me that they left early and didn't want to wake me, and that I should meet them there when I'm up.

I fill Nigel's bowl, let him inside and go upstairs to shower and get dressed.

* * *

><p>It's only a few weeks until Christmas, but before the 25th comes the 18th: Jamie's birthday. She would have been 17. I keep trying to push the thought from my brain, but it's persistent, bombarding me constantly, wondering what I'll do. We've spent every birthday together since we were seven. I'm scared to think about this day, encroaching like a slowly filling pool.<p>

As I drive to the practice I spot Christmas decorations that seem to have sprouted up overnight. Store windows and people's houses are festive and inviting. Radio stations play sporadic Christmas songs until I shut it off altogether.

When the elevator doors open onto the practice, the waiting room is full and I see Norah, the receptionist looking harried. I slip past and go to Mom's office, but she's not there, so I go to Dad's and see him filling out a chart.

"Where are you keeping the sour candies these days?" I ask, slipping in.

"Hey, sweetie," he smiles, getting up to hug me. "How did you sleep? You looked dead to the world when I looked in this morning."

"Yeah, I guess I missed my own bed," I reply. He kisses my forehead. "Where's Mom?"

"I think she's talking to Violet," he replies, closing his patient file and putting it in the Finished tray. "We've got your schedule all made up, but she's got it. You wanna get a drink or something from the kitchen?"

"Sure," I nod.

He slings an arm around my shoulders as we head over to the kitchen.

"So, Mom told me you were asked to prom," he teases.

I roll my eyes. "Of course she did."

"I think it's great," he smiles. "You should absolutely go. And Axel is the only male under the age of 30 that I actually trust."

"That's deep," I reply drily.

He laughs as he pushes open the kitchen door.

"Hey, you," Amelia grins. "How's home treating you?"

"So good," I reply emphatically. "I never realized how incredibly fantastic my bed was until I wasn't in it for weeks."

"Months," Dad corrects.

"So you're gonna stick with home-schooling?" Amelia asks, as Dad hands me a bottle of water.

"Yeah," I shrug. "I kind of like it."

"I don't blame you," Amelia agrees. "High school is not the greatest time of your life, no matter what any cliches say."

I laugh. "Yeah, I can see that. Entertaining, but...I'm excited to graduate. Early."

"Oh yeah," she nods. "You can probably finish pretty early, with your pace. Like by March."

"Hopefully. What do you mean, my pace?" I laugh.

"Hey, it's not an insult," she holds up her hands. "You are among fellow nerds."

I shake my head, smiling, as Dad holds up his hand like Spock.

Norah pokes her head in. "Dr. Freedman? You're 10:00 is here."

He nods at her and hops off his stool. "I'll see you in a bit, honey."

He squeezes my arm and leaves to see his patient.

"Sorry, babe, I gotta run, too. I have a brain to examine," Amelia says.

"Yeah, that's what they all say," I reply.

She smiles and heads out. I take my bag and go to sit out on the couch outside the kitchen. It's not in the waiting room; it's kind of hidden around a corner, so people can wait for patients who are seeing doctors without sitting in the waiting room itself. There's already a girl there.

I smile and settle into the other end of the comfortable couch. She attempts a small smile, but is clearly miserable.

I pull out a book and read, while waiting for Mom. A few minutes later I hear a sniffle. Quiet, like it was attempted to be stifled, but couldn't be. I glance up and see the girl, tears pouring down her face. She looks to be about 14 or 15.

Wordlessly, I pass her a Kleenex from the table beside me.

"Thanks," she manages.

"No worries," I reply quietly.

I glance at her and she looks down. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be...loud."

"It's okay," I shake my head. "Are you...I mean, what's...going on?"

I don't want to pry, but she seems like she wants or needs to talk.

"My mom," she says after a moment. She holds up and then drops a fist. "She's in there. With Dr. Montgomery."

"She's a great doctor," I say. "Really. One of the best."

"I know. Mom's seen her for awhile," she almost whispers, balling the Kleenex into her fist. "She needs it. The best doctor, I mean."

I close my book, and wait.

"She has cancer," she says after a second. "Ovarian."

"I'm sorry," I reply.

"It's been...years. She was doing okay for awhile...remission, y'know?"

I nod.

"But now...I don't think things are looking up."

"Addi-Dr. Montgomery will do whatever it takes," I try to be optimistic. "If anyone can do something for your mom, it's her."

She nods, tears falling silently.

"It's just us," she goes on. "My mom and me. We're all each other has."

I'm not sure what to say, but I don't think she wants to hear anything; I think she just needs to talk.

"My dad left when I was young, like three or four. And...well, it's just been Mom and me since then. She's my best friend. You know how other girls just seem to hate their mothers?"

I nod. "Yeah. I've never understood it either."

"Are you and your mom close?"

"Very," I nod. "I tell her everything."

"Me too," she says, examining the Kleenex in her hand. "Everything."

She sighs, trying, I'm sure, to quell the tears.

"She got sick when I was 10. For the last five years she's been fighting...so hard. She was in remission for a long time, but...it's back. It spread. It started in her uterus, so they took it out. Then they found it in her gallbladder, so they took that out too. Part of her stomach, one of her kidneys...then she was okay. She was...normal. Like she'd never been sick at all. Her hair grew back...blonde," she smiles here. "It's always been dark, like mine, but after chemo and radiation, it grew back blonde. How weird is that?"

"A lot of girls would love to have their hair magically grow in blonde," I smile.

"No kidding," she laughs, small.

It's quiet; she looks up towards Addison's office.

"I'm not sure she's going to make it now. I mean...there's not much else inside her that the cancer can eat now."

I swallow; her words too descriptive and scary. All I can think about is, what if it was my Mom?

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do," she looks at me, straight in the eye. Hers are deep brown, like her hair, and full of fear and heartache.

A door opens and we both look up to see Addison and a pale, thin woman emerge from Addison's office. The woman has sunken cheekbones and a protruding collarbone, and her once-beautiful face is framed with a colorful headscarf.

The girl stands up quickly, worry all over her face. One look at Addison says it all.

The woman tries to look happy, but her daughter doesn't fall for it.

"No," she whispers.

"Jessica, no," her mother comforts. "Don't."

She holds her daughter as she cries. Addison's own eyes look glassy as she glances at me and then looks at the floor.

"What can we do?" Jessica demands.

"Take me home," her mother asks. She's strong, but you can see that she's resigned now, to her fate.

Jessica swallows. Nods.

"Are you sure, Charlotte? I can have a bed ready for you by the time you get to St. Ambrose," Addison says.

My eyes dart to her as she says her name. Charlotte.

"No," Charlotte shakes her head, slowly. "Thank you, Dr. Montgomery. I'd just like to go home."

"Well," Addison hesitates. "You have your prescription. Make sure you let me know when you need more. They're strong. They'll help with your pain."

Charlotte nods, attempts a grateful smile, but even that seems to hurt her.

I swallow, looking over towards Mom's office, but she's still not there. I feel like I need to see her, right now.

Jessica grips her mother's arm protectively, gives me a sad look. I can only look back, my face telling her how sorry I am.

They turn and she slowly guides her mother towards the elevator.

Addison sighs.

"How long does she have?" I ask quietly.

"I don't know," Addison shakes her head. "Honestly, I'm surprised she's still even...walking."

I look at her, and then at the floor. I rub my forehead, not wanting any of this in my head.

"You okay?" Addison's hand goes to my back.

I nod. "Yeah, I'm just...tired, I guess."

"How's Jessica? Was she talking to you?"

"Yeah, she's..." I sigh. "Terrified."

It's the only thing I can think of; it's the only way she really looked.

"Her mom's name...it's Charlotte?" I frown, my forehead furrowing as it does when I'm trying not to think of something terrible.

"Yeah," Addison replies quietly, rubbing my back. "Close to home, huh?"

I nod, rubbing my hands on my cargo pants, looking around for my bag. I feel like just waiting in Mom's office until she's done with Violet.

We hear a shout and a thump, look over to see people crowding around the elevator. Near the floor, in the sea of shoes and legs, I see the colorful headscarf.

* * *

><p>By the time we get to the small crowd, Addison is calling to Norah to call an ambulance and then demanding people to move aside. I can hear Jessica crying, calling to her mother to wake up.<p>

"Mom! Wake up! Please!"

She's shaking her shoulders, but Charlotte's eyes are closed and her lips are that sickly pale blue.

I swallow and watch as Addison tries to get Jessica to move aside a little bit, so she can better help Charlotte. She looks at me, hard, and I understand.

I go farther into the crowd and reach Jessica, bending down to my knees.

"Come on," I say quietly. "Let's let Dr. Montgomery help her."

I place a hand on Jessica's arm, but she angrily throws me off.

"I can't leave her! I can't!"

I put my hand back again. "We won't leave her, we just need to back up. Let Addison help her."

Slightly defeated, she loosens her grip on her mother and exhales sharply, trying not to sob.

Sam and Jake have run out at the this point, trying to help Addison.

"How long's she been down?" Sam demands.

"Four minutes," Addison replies. "I'm not..."

She glances up at Jessica.

"I'm not getting a heartbeat," she says as quietly as possible.

"Addison," Sam begins. "Is this Charlotte Samson?"

Addison gives him a look and continues CPR.

"Addison," he says firmly.

"Shut up, Sam! Or help me," she says sharply.

I look towards the elevator, wondering where the ambulance is. But even I know, by looking at her, that Charlotte is already gone. She looked like the walking dead when she came in, and now her lips are a darker blue, and her skin is sickly pale and hard-looking.

I grip Jessica's arm, wondering how I'm supposed to comfort her when all I want is to see my own mother. I feel seven again. But she's sobbing, trying to breathe, and I can't ignore her. I turn her away from her mother, and she lets me. The fight in her is tired too.

"She can't die," she cries. "Not yet. Not yet."

I keep my arms around her and glance back to see what's happening.

There's nothing left of Charlotte but her emaciated, eaten body. I see, even as Addison stubbornly pumps her chest, that she's not going to get anything.

"Addison," Jake says, softer than Sam.

She glances up at him and he stares at her. She loses some of her fight, but keeps pumping Charlotte's chest, glancing for a second at the small crowd that has refused to dissipate.

"Look, you've all got to move back. Please. Go back to the waiting room," Sam says.

A few people start to move, but some just step backwards.

"Now!" Sam yells.

Everyone jumps and turns away, going back to the waiting room while frequently glancing back.

"She's gone, Addison," Jake says quietly.

"No!" Jessica screams, jerking out of my grip and spinning around. "No! You have to help her! You have to save her!"

She's back on the floor, grabbing at her mother, screaming at her to wake up.

I'm powerless against her. Jake steps in and gently takes Jessica's arms, slowly standing her up and turning her away from her mother.

He hushes her and hugs her to his chest.

She sobs. She falls into Jake as though her heart has left her chest and her legs have given up. She sobs the wrenching, breathless cries of someone who has lost so much, so suddenly.

All I can do is stand there, dumbly, as Addison continues her futile CPR and Sam stands up to assist the paramedics who have just arrived. It gets silent in my head as I watch the scene. I see Jessica sobbing, but I can't hear anything. I watch as the paramedics talk to Sam and Addison; as they begin to move Charlotte onto a board. It doesn't go unnoticed by me that they don't bother attaching a respirator to her. They don't take her blood pressure, or begin administering drugs. They already know, and Addison finally has to admit it, too. Her eyes swim as she stares at the floor and Sam talks to the paramedics.

Someone grabs me and then my face is in Mom's hands and she talking to me, but I can't hear. I manage to move my stare to link with hers and I see her green eyes, huge and worried; her mouth moving and her strong hands cupping my face.

I swallow, my body finally listening to me.

"Kati," I hear Mom. "Baby, say something."

I look over when I hear the loud sobbing that I'd managed to block out. Jessica is breaking in Jake's arms.

"Kati," Mom says again.

I look back at her; realize my cheeks are wet and her face is blurred by my tears.

"Her mom..." I start, staring at the floor near Jessica. "Her name's Charlotte."

"I know, darlin'," Mom grips my arms and then pulls me forward, sliding one arm around me as she leads me towards her office. "I know."

Dad's coming out of his office, hurrying over as we reach Mom's office door.

"What happened?" he asks, concerned.

"Charlotte Samson," Mom replies softly.

I see, out of the corner of my eye, as Dad looks over towards the elevator. I look too, and see them wheeling the gurney into the elevator; Charlotte's lifeless body upon it.

"Oh god," Dad sighs. "Right there?"

Mom nods, and we reach the couch in her office. I sit, staring over at Jessica through the blinds.

"You okay, honey?" Dad asks, worried. He kneels in front of me and squeezes my hands. "Hmm?"

I nod, after a moment. "Just..."

I shake my head.

"I know, baby," Dad hugs me. "I know."

I force my body to relax, but refuse to let my head turn to see Jessica. But I hear the elevator door close and it gets quiet, so I know she's gone.

"Charlotte was sick for a long time," Dad offers.

"I know," I reply. I inhale and make eye contact with him, because I know he's waiting for it before he'll believe I'm fine. "I know."

"I'll go get you a drink," he says, running a hand over my hair.

Beside me, Mom rubs my back.

"You alright?"

I nod.

"I don't...want this to sound the wrong way, but...I'm so glad it wasn't you," I say quietly.


	57. Chapter 57

Axel doesn't let up about prom. The next day, as I'm working through some Spanish, he texts me asking about it. I tell him I'm not done thinking. He says that's ridiculous because I think faster than anyone he knows. I tell him to beat it, to which he replies that he's coming to pick me up to go paintballing.

"Don't you have school today?" I ask upon opening the door when he arrives.

"Last two blocks are spare," he grins. "Because I'm so damn smart, I finished all of my English courses last semester."

"Yeah, yeah, put it in writing," I reply, as he comes inside.

"Where're your doctors at?"

"The practice. Trying to catch up on clients."

"Damn, aren't you glad that one day you'll just be able to put your work on hold and take off for months and still be filthy rich?"

"Aren't you?" I raise an eyebrow.

He laughs. "I'm going to work from home. Anything that I end up choosing to stick with is going to be remote. So really, I can get filthy rich from working on some beach in Trujillo, Honduras."

"Don't be silly," I toss him a Coke from the fridge. "Trujillo has terrible beach coverage."

"Not by the time I'm done with it," he replies.

I grab my paintball stuff and we head out to my car. I text Mom so she doesn't have a coronary when I'm not at home, and we head out.

"Double-oh seven," Steve, the guy who owns our paintball arena, says when we arrive. "Where you been?"

I tilt my head, laughing at his joke. "Alabama."

"You cheating on us?"

"Actually, no," I reply, dropping my bag on the ground in front of me. "I didn't play at all over there."

"Not even rusty, I'm sure," he teases, handing my a blue buff. "You and Axel will be with those three over there. Game starts in 10."

I take the buff and we head over to where three other guys are waiting.

"Hey bro," one of them says to Axel. "Ready for this? It's those college dicks again."

We look over and see five guys with UCLA t-shirts on, gearing up.

"Their problem, bro," Axel shrugs. "We now have a secret weapon."

"Oh yeah? What?" another guys asks.

Axel gestures towards me, and they all turn to stare. The one guy raises an eyebrow back at Axel.

"Seriously, bro," Axel shakes his head. "She's the last one on the field, or I'll shave my head."

With this, the three of them appraise me. I roll my eyes and finish pulling on my long-sleeved shirt.

"You played before?" one asks stupidly.

"No," I reply, looking nervous. "But I'm really good at Barbies."

Axel and the other two laugh, and the guy realizes I'm being sarcastic and that he's being a dick, and turns red.

We finish getting dressed and I pull on my helmet.

"Nice bros," I say quietly to Axel.

"Show 'em up," he grins.

We head onto the field and start choosing places. I pick my favorite spot: behind a giant triangular-shaped prop.

"Alright, boys," Axel pulls down his visor. "Choose your target."

The other three reply with their choices.

"That leaves Bieber on the end for me, and Bruce Banner for you," he grins.

I look over and see who he means. The largest of the five guys is...well, large. At least a foot taller than his friends and clearly athletic. His arms and legs look like laundry bags full of meat.

"Thank you," I reply with a sarcastic smile.

We laugh and get ready for the horn.

Ten minutes and one solid hit to my ribcage later, Axel and I are the only two left from our team. Bruce and the smallest of his friends remain on their side.

"He's huge," I breathe. "You'd think he'd be an easy target."

"He's obviously the only one who plays regularly," Axel replies. "The other three were terrible. This smaller guy is good, though."

"You go left," I look over my shoulder. "He keeps looking to his right, so he's definitely thinking of getting to that prop over there. Maybe if Bruce sees you two, he'll stand up or something and make himself an easy target."

Axel nods and moves slowly. Sure enough, the smaller guy moves right, looking around to see if anyone's noticed. I go right, deciding on the best place to go after the Hulk.

A few moments later I hear rapid fire and look up to see Axel nail the smaller guy with his signature neon pink paint.

"It makes them feel even more pathetic," he would tell people who asked why he chose pink.

Almost instantaneously, the Hulk steps out from behind a prop. He's way to my left; the exact opposite from where I was going. He fires at Axel and hits him square in the back.

I race over to their team's side and duck behind a prop. I can hear all of his buddies yelling for him to watch out for me.

He turns and ducks as Axel leaves the field. Behind a long, tubular prop, I inch along until I reach the end of it and peek around. Directly in front of my face is an enormous, paint-spattered boot.

Quickly I look up, exactly when he looks down. We look eyes for a second but I'm faster. I hit him right on the visor, covering it with purple paint.

"Fuck," he says, as his team groans and mine yells. The horn blares and I let my head fall against the mock-grass, sighing.

"Holy shit," I sigh. I don't usually come that close to being shot, dead on.

Bruce takes one last disgusted glance at me and then goes over to his disgruntled teammates.

Suddenly I'm being hoisted into the air and Axel is cheering in my ear as his holds me off the ground in a hug.

"Damn, girl," he laughs. "You were pushin' it."

He sets me down and the other three guys knock my helmet and give congratulations.

"Impressive, Barbie," the one guy smirks.

"Nah," Axel shakes his head. "Farthest thing from a pussy Barbie."

We laugh and head off the field.

"Hey," we hear a deep voice.

We turn around and see Bruce. Somehow without his gear on, he seems even more huge.

"Hey," I reply, staring up at him.

He glares at me and for a second I think he might Hulk-smash me. Then he holds out his fist.

"Nice game," he booms.

Watching him, I bump his knuckles with mine. He gives me a nod and then turns around to leave.

I turn to Axel with wide eyes.

His eyes are just as wide as he laughs, "Holy shit. I thought I was gonna have to commit suicide just then. Throw myself in front of you for that Hulk-smash."

"That's exactly what I thought he was going to do," I laugh.

"You guys wanna come get some food?" the guy on our team asks.

Axel glances at me; I shrug, half-nod.

"Sure, bro. Where at?"

"Taco place near Santa Monica pier?"

"Deal," Axel knocks his fist.

"Hey, we never got your name, Barbie," he says, half-turned to leave.

"It's Kati," I reply. "And don't call me Barbie."

"Dex," he laughs, holding out his hand.

I shake it and we all head over to our separate cars.


	58. Chapter 58

After watching the four of them attempt to eat more tacos than the other, Dex and his friends head out and Axel and I walk along the boardwalk.

"I'm gonna die," Axel groans, clutching his stomach.

"Probably," I reply.

We pass a couple of stores.

"Oh, hey, let's go to that old-fashioned candy store," he says.

"You just said you were going to die because you're so full," I reply.

"Not for me. Allegra and my mom love those pralines and things you can get there," he says.

We go down a side-street and turn to go down a less busy one, where the store and some other specialty shops are.

"Do they still have those jawbreakers the size of my face there?" I ask.

"Bigger," he laughs.

We hear a muffled scream and something fall.

"What was that?" I say, turning to look around.

There are a few people ahead of us, but no one behind us. We peek down an alleyway that leads to the back doors of the stores along this street. A man has a woman pushed against the cement wall.

Axel instinctively moves his arm out to push me behind him.

"What's he doing?" I ask, trying to move forward again.

"Hold on," he says quietly, still watching them.

We hear them argue in Spanish.

"I dunno what they're saying," he whispers. "I dropped Spanish in ninth grade."

"He called her a whore and said she needs to learn to treat him like the man he is," I reply, stone-faced.

"Dick," Axel says, watching as the guy maintains his power-stance in front of the woman; his forearm across her collarbone so she can't move.

She struggles against him, telling him not to touch her. He tells her to shut up and slams her back against the wall. She pushes forward again and, swiftly, he backhands her.

Axel and I hear the slap from our 20-foot distance.

"Hey," Axel yells, jumping out from around the corner we were standing at.

The man looks up, surprised, and glares at Axel, yelling at him in Spanish to shut up.

Axel holds up his hands. "Look, just let her go, man. You don't need to be slapping her around."

The woman cowers on the ground against the wall. She looks up at me, standing there as Axel moves forward.

The man flings an arm up, pointing behind us, and tells Axel to leave.

"Fuera de aquí! Esta perra es de tu incumbencia!"

Axel looks at me.

"He want us to leave," I say, looking from him to the woman, crying on the ground.

"Look, man. Just let her walk away. Just leave her alone," Axel replies.

The man must understand basic English, because he smirks, and shakes his head.

"Ella no va a ninguna parte, a menos que yo lo diga."

He reaches into his back pocket. My stomach drops.

"Axel," I say, eyeing the man.

But he ignores me and steps forward, towards the woman.

"Come on," he says to her, holding out his hand. "You can leave."

She just sits there and cries, constantly looking up in fear at the man. She shakes her head.

He takes another step forward and the man whips out a knife. It's long; it must have had it in a sheath in his back belt loop.

"Hey, man," Axel holds up his hands. "I just wanted to help her."

"Ella no necesita su ayuda," he sneers.

Axel glances at me, as I reach his side, slowly.

"He said she doesn't need your help," I say quietly, feeling as though my heart might explode.

Axel, stubborn as always, takes another step forward.

"Please let her go," he says firmly.

The man sneers again and lunges forward, his knife out, at Axel.

"Por favor," I say quickly. "Por favor, no le hagas daño."

"Conseguir que la mierda fuera de aquí," he says, glaring at me.

"Axel, we need to leave," I say firmly.

"And leave her here? Look at her face."

I look over, and the crying woman has a black eye and bruises blooming along the side of her face.

I swallow, cursing myself for being so stupid, as I step slightly behind Axel and pull my phone out of my back pocket. The man can't see me very well here. Silently, I dial 911 and slip the phone back into my pocket.

The man grips his knife, fury on his face as his knuckles turn white.

"I said go," he says in heavily accented English.

"I can't," Axel replies.

"No tienes idea de con quien eseta tratando con," he almost smiles.

"You're pushing it, Axel," I whisper.

"Tell him if he just walks away, no one will know. And we'll just leave."

"I don't think he's willing to reason here," I reply.

"Just tell him."

I sigh. "Si usted acaba de irse, nosotros tambien lo haremos. Nadie va a salir lastimado."

He laughs.

"Yo se que no me hagan dano. Pero lo haras. Si no fuera de aqui."

"Yeah he's not really going for that," I say pointedly to Axel.

I keep glancing down at the knife.

In the distance I hear sirens, but it's LA. There are always sirens, unless you get farther out into the suburbs. There's no way for me to tell if they are sirens coming for us.

The three of us stand and stare at each other; the woman cries on the ground.

I see Axel thinking; he keeps glancing at the woman, then at the man, and at the knife. He's planning and he's being stupid, regardless of his chivalry.

"Don't you dare," I whisper, seeing his eyes. "Just wait."

They dart over to look at me. "And just leave her here? I can't. I can't just leave another girl to be hurt."

"Axel," I start, because he's getting into Silas stuff again. "You didn't-"

But he's moving. He moves forward, towards the woman and the man lunges towards him, yelling in Spanish. I can't even translate it because I'm running for Axel.

"Axel, no!" I reach.

Things happen too quickly and I'm not sure what's going on. I hear the woman scream, I hear the man grunt and I hear Axel yell. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears and I feel myself hit pavement.

The sirens get closer and closer, and Axel is scuffling with the man on the ground.

I hear the metallic sound of the knife hitting the ground as I try to see what's happening. But Axel's on top of me, holding me down, and the woman is crying, louder now.

The sirens are close now, and the man curses loudly and I hear footsteps racing away from us.

My face is pressed against the pavement and I look up to see the man running from us. His knife lies a few feet away, and it's gleaming with blood.

"Axel," I breathe, struggling to get up.

The woman is crying silently now. I look up and see her, staring wide-eyed down at Axel. She's terrified.

I push myself up a bit, despite the weight of Axel on me, and see it. The blood on the knife is his. His white t-shirt is covered with it.

The sirens that I heard before sound further away, but someone is rushing over to us.

"Bring the board," I hear someone yell, and it's followed by the static sound of a walkie talkie. "We've got three of them. Fourth one left on foot heading north towards the boardwalk."

More people arrive and someone turns me over. It's a paramedic.

"Can you hear me?" he asks.

I swallow; nod. More paramedics arrive and start looking at Axel and the woman.

"What's your name?"

"Kate," I whisper, my blood pounding, as I try to twist my head to see Axel. "Help him."

"He's being taken care of, sweetie," the medic replies, taking my pulse. "Can you tell me what happened? Are you the one who called?"

I nod. "There was another man," I say. "He was beating the woman. Axel was just...he wanted to help. He tried to help."

"Tell St. Ambrose we've got a stab wound coming in. Possible damage to kidneys and liver."

"Oh my god," I say, tears filling my eyes, making it impossible to clearly see anything now.

"Look here," the medic says. He flashes a light into my eyes, checking my pupils.

"He's allergic to penicillin," I say quickly, trying to see Axel. But he's being wheeled away now, towards the ambulance.

"Penicillin allergy on your stab wound," the medic yells over to his partner.

I move to get up but he presses my shoulder. "Easy, honey. You've got a laceration on your head and your blood pressure is high. We'll get you onto a board and take you in. You'll be right behind him."

And then someone is strapping me to a board.

"Are you fucking kidding me," I whisper, more to myself. Because of course this is happening. Of course.

The ambulance ride is fast and confusing. I feel dizzy and all I can think about is Axel. I didn't realize I hit the ground so hard until the medic said I was cut, and I realized that blood was dripping onto my eyelashes.

"What's your parents' number, honey?" the medic asks, as another one monitors my vitals.

"You don't have to call them," I reply woozily.

"I'm sure they'll want to be at the hospital," he replies, concerned.

"They'll already be at the hospital," I sigh, closing my eyes. "My mother is the chief of staff."

"You're Charlotte Freedman's daughter?" he stares.

I sarcastically salute him, lazily. "Present."

"Jesus," he says. "She's terrifying when any patient comes in, let alone her own kid."

"Just wheel me to the door and run. Save yourself. She's going to kill me, too," I reply drily.

"I'm sure she'll just be glad you're okay," his partner says, smiling as she tapes down the IV she's just put into my hand.

"Yes. But this will be the fourth time in 10 months that I've been brought into emergency, bleeding and concussed."

"That's quite the run of bad luck," the medic tries to joke.

"That's one way to put it," I reply quietly.

"Here," the driver yells, and we stop.

The back doors fling open and they start wheeling me out.

"What do we got?" I hear a familiar voice.

"Teenage female, involved in an altercation involving three others. Looks like she got slammed to the ground pretty hard. Head laceration and possible concussion," my medic replies.

"Wait, who is that?" the familiar voice calls. "Carl, who do you have on your board?"

"Teenage male, stab wound to the abdomen," someone calls back.

"Who is he?" the voice demands, slightly annoyed.

"Umm...Axel Mason?"

"Jesus," the voice breathes and suddenly Pete is directly over top of my face. "Kati."

"Peter," I reply with a slight grimace.

"Oh my god, what happened?" he demands, flashing his light into my eyes.

"I'm fine," I breathe. "Is Axel okay?"

"Let's just worry about you right now, okay?"

They're wheeling me inside.

"Is Mom here?"

"Yes. I'll have someone go get her."

"No," I say quickly. "Fourth time in 10 months? Just...bandage this up and she never has to know."

"Yeah right," he smiles. "And put me in the firing line of your mother? I need a head CT, and someone from plastics to stitch this up. And someone page Charlotte Freedman. Sarah? Page Dr. Freedman."

"No no, Sarah," I say, trying to move, despite the vise-like grip of the board I'm on. "Don't page her."

"Sarah," Pete says, and he gives her a look.

They wheel me into an emergency bay and pull the curtain around for privacy.

"Kati, are you dizzy? Any nausea?" Pete asks, as the medics start unstrapping me from the board.

"Yes," I reply, staring at the ceiling, tired of the stupid pattern of lights and tile.

"Yes to both?"

"Yes to both."

They carefully slide the board out from under me and I can finally move my head to look around. But the curtain blocks everything.

"Where's Axel?"

"He's being looked after," Pete replies.

"Pete, don't," I say, not buying the doctor bit. "Just tell me where he is. Where did the knife go in?"

"He's probably being taken right into surgery, Kati," he replies. "He had wounds to his abdomen."

"He's not going to die," I state more than ask.

Pete just continues examining me for breaks, scratches and anything else that may have been missed.

"Pete," I say loudly.

"Kati," he looks at me. "You know he's in the best possible hands."

I swallow hard and clench my jaw, because he can't tell me that Axel is going to be okay. I feel his hands press my legs and arms, moving the joints. He moves my neck and checks my pupils again.

He pushes into my stomach, lifting my shirt as he moves to check my ribs.

"Whoa," he says, stopping. I look down and see a large purple bruise with a white middle. "Did you...get hit with something?"

"Paintball," I reply. "It's just from paintball."

The curtain is flung open.

"Oh my god," Mom rushes over. "Kati, what happened?"

"I'm fine, Mom," I say. "You need to see Axel. I need you to see if he's okay."

"Axel?" Mom stares at Pete.

"Something down by the boardwalk. Someone with a knife got Axel."

Mom turns to me, her eyes wide and terrified.

"He was trying to help this woman. Her husband or boyfriend was beating her and Axel just...wanted to help her. The guy went at him with a knife."

She starts looking at my body.

"I'm fine, Mom," I repeat. But she's standing near my head now, staring at the cut. The cut I haven't seen, but from her look I'm guessing it's pretty gnarly.

"Oh my god," she breathes, gently touching around the wound.

"It could be worse," I sigh.

She and Pete look at me.

"It could have been the ever-popular left-side," I lazily point to my head.

Her head tilts slightly, unimpressed with the joke.

"Did you order an MRI?" Mom asks Pete.

"Yeah, she's going now," he replies, writing on my chart.

"I'm coming," Mom replies, and a nurse opens the curtain so we can leave.

As they're wheeling me down the hallway, we hear someone behind us tell us to move. My gurney is moved to the side so another one can pass. I see dark hair, long fingers, skin the color of mocha.

"Axel," I yell, trying to sit up. Mom puts a hand on my shoulder, but even she is staring. "Axel!"

But he's not moving. He's not awake.

My eyes sting and my head spins.

"Axel," I yell again, but then he's around the corner, as his doctors race him to an operating room.

I inhale quickly as a sob tries to escape.

"He has to be okay," I whisper, gripping Mom's wrist as she tries to hold me down.

"Lie down, baby," she soothes. "Just lie down."

"He can't die," I close my eyes, and tears snake down my temples. "He can't die."


	59. Chapter 59

I feel numb. I feel like the blood pumped from my heart evaporates, taking with it any sensation of feeling altogether. I can't even feel my own fingers, or my arms, or my legs, but mostly I can't feel anything moving inside my body. As though my heart has just given up trying to keep me alive, and taken an unannounced recess.

It's been six hours and Axel is still in surgery. Mom told me that the knife nicked some arteries, that his right kidney was cut, and that his liver was narrowly missed by one of the blade's vicious stabs. He can live without a kidney. I say this in my head over and over. I'm sure Mom and Dad think I've actually lost it. They keep trying to talk to me but I have to ignore them. I can't answer because all I can think about is Axel and Jamie. My two best friends since before I had kneecaps. All three of us hurt, and only I'm the one that has to stay awake and wait for the others. But Jamie's already gone, and Axel is all I have left. If he goes...I close my eyes and shake my head. No. I'm not thinking about it. I will think about him, but I will not think about him not being here.

I can see Dad out of the corner of my eye, sitting on the couch in my hospital room. He's watching me with his chin in his hands, covering his mouth. It's how he looks when things get too bad. And he's looking at me like I'm two. I hate it. I hate it because making my parents feel this worried is something I am all too familiar with now. I hate the guilt that comes with it.

I inhale, exhale deeply. I stare at the spot on the wall below the window. I feel like someone could demand a blueprint of one of these cookie-cutter hospital rooms from me, and I would be able to draw an exact replica.

Mom walks past the window and comes into the room. Stares at me.

"Still?" she says to Dad. He nods, his fists still cupping his face.

Mom squeezes his shoulder; he grips her hand. She walks over to me.

"Baby," she says softly. "Talk to me."

I stare straight ahead. I can hear her, but it feels far away and like it's not what I need to be paying attention to. Because I'm trying to listen for the slight variation in the air; the tingle in my skin that tells me that Axel is gone; that the feel of my world is again forever altered. I won't know anything until my heart starts beating again.

"This isn't catatonia," Dad states, almost to himself.

"Of course not, honey," Mom turns to him. "It's not."

She turns back to me and gently brushes hair away from my newest wound. At this rate, I'll look like Freddie Krueger's little sister in no time. Granted, the scars on the left-side of my head are basically non-existent. If you look very closely, you can see one thin white line snaking back from my temple. It barely disturbs my hairline. The other one, from my craniotomy, is farther back and a bit thicker. But I have so much hair that it covers the scar and you can only see it if you really look for it. I got lucky, having Mom and amazing plastic surgeons holding the needle.

"Look at me, darlin'," she says softly. She leans down so her face is level with mine. "Look at your mama."

She moves a hand to cup my cheek. I wish she'd go away, because then I wouldn't have tears filling my eyes. When something happens, I can manage to keep myself together. I can put on my Charlotte King-face and act immovable. But as soon as she, or Dad, gets there; talks to me...I lose it. I lose it because it's the only place I let myself fall.

The tears spill over my lids and fall down over her hand. I close my eyes, willing the tears to stop. But it's a futile wish.

"You have to believe he'll be okay, baby," she whispers, her thumbs smoothing away the tears.

I swallow hard and let my eyes leave the spot on the wall below the window. I look down, because I don't want to see anything. But then I make myself look up, so they stop thinking I'm one blink away from being shipped to McLean Hospital, circa 1967. When I lift my eyes to meet hers, I can feel the relief emanate from her fingers, stroking my hair, and from her eyes, trying to stay strong for me.

Dad gets up and hurries over.

"Kati," he whispers.

My eyes falter, dropping just below their stares.

"Everything's going to be okay, honey," he promises, his hand enveloping mine.

I exhale and look away, closing my eyes again.

"Dr. Freedman?" someone says.

My eyes pop open and I see a scrub nurse at the door. Mom and Dad both look over.

"He's out of surgery."

Mom squeezes my hand and goes over to the door. For the first time since she's stood beside me, I try to grab her hand back. But she's already at the door, and she and Dad go outside with the nurse.

I curse my lack of supersonic hearing and my inability to read lips, as I watch the three of them talk. The scrub nurse gesticulates a lot with her hands. This doesn't help me at all; it just tells me she's a dramatic speaker. Instead I stare at Dad, because his poker face is about as sturdy as a house of cards.

When I see him inhale and close his eyes, my mouth goes completely dry. Mom smiles at the scrub nurse and touches her arm. I see her say 'thank you'. This concussion must be solid because I don't know what to make of this at all.

They come back into the room. I'm already staring at them, my eyes demanding answers.

"He made it through surgery," Mom smiles, coming over to my side.

All of the air in my chest rushes out as I exhale and my heart stutters. My eyes fill again and I try to make myself breathe normally.

She kisses my forehead.

"Can I see him?" I say; my first words in six hours.

"Soon," she promises.

People appear at the doorway and we look up to see Mr and Mrs Mason. Mrs Mason's eyes are swollen and red, and even Mr Mason, tall and strong, looks fragile.

"Jessica, Isaiah," Mom welcomes them, going over to hug them.

"He made it through surgery," Mrs Mason manages a smile.

"He was with the best doctors I have on staff," Mom replies.

Mrs Mason comes over to me, her chocolate brown eyes swimming.

"Kati, I'm so glad you were with him," she says quietly, gripping my hand. "You always try to make him think before he acts. I'm so grateful you were there, even when he didn't. And that you...you called the police."

I don't know why, but I was expecting her to be furious with me. Mrs Mason is an incredibly loving mother, but she is also pretty strict. She is the reason why Atticus and Axel and Allegra have such incredible work ethic when it comes to school. She demands straight A's, impeccable manners and good behavior.

I try to smile at her and she leans down and kisses my forehead.

"God bless you," she whispers, tears threatening to fall.

I'm not sure what to say anymore. I can feel my brow furrowing, but the exertion of it is making my stitches throb.

And then Mr Mason is there, and I'm staring into the peculiar green color of Axel's eyes. The same eyes.

"What would that boy do without you?" he smiles. Atticus and Axel look so much him, but only Axel inherited his father's green eyes. Mr Mason could pass for 35; you'd never know he had a 20-year-old son at Princeton.

I don't reply, I can only offer a slight smile.

"Thank you, Kati," he says, squeezing my hand. I see him blink rapidly, refusing the tears.

Again, I have no words; no response, but thankfully, they don't expect one.

Mr Mason kisses my forehead and goes back to his wife; his strong arm encircling her like armor.

"They said we can see him as soon as he's brought to ICU," Mrs Mason says.

"I'll be up to see ya'll soon," Mom nods.

Mr and Mrs Mason give me that look again, so grateful, and then they leave.

I exhale and tears slip through again.

"I'll take you up to see him as soon as I can, baby," Mom comes over to me.

I nod.

I exhale deeply, realizing that now I can feel my heart beating again


	60. Chapter 60

It's almost two hours before I can see Axel. Dad makes me sit in a wheelchair, despite my protests, but as soon as we get to ICU, I'm out of the chair and hurrying down the hall, with my trusty IV stand in tow. I see Mrs Mason near the nurse's station. Silently, we understand each other, and she points to Axel's room. I hurry, despite the dizzying head rush I feel.

When I reach the doorway I hold onto the frame. But he's there. In the bed. He's asleep.

Quietly I go inside and around his bed. Even though I've spent far too much time in a hospital this year, I feel nervous about seeing someone else in one. Slowly I reach a hand out and let it rest on his. I can feel the rise and fall of my chest, and I'm not sure if the pulsing in my hand is from him or me.

I stare at his face, at the eyelashes that every girl would kill for; the smooth plane of his nose and the creamy mocha of his skin. His hair is too long, Mrs Mason keeps telling him. But he's refused to cut it. It's grown into short little ropes. My eyes are blurry and I quickly wipe away the tears before he wakes up and sees. I stare at him and suddenly, so slowly, his eyes begin to open. I sit in the chair waiting there. Finally, the vibrant bottle-green of his eyes is visible. When his lips start to curve into his famous half-smile, I can't help but smile too.

"Girl, what'd I tell you about hospitals?" he rasps.

"Uh, pardon?" I cock my head. "Who's visiting who right now?"

"Who's head is wrapped up and bloody again?" he counters, smiling for real now.

"You just, what, felt like dropping a kidney today?" I retort.

He laughs, but winces.

"Figured I should handle some of this hospital business. You were hoggin' it all."

My jaw drops and I manage a laugh. "I will arrange for your sponge bath to be given by an old lady," I threaten.

He laughs, smaller this time because he knows it hurts, and squeezes my hand.

He looks at me and I notice something in his eyes that I hadn't before. He's looking at me the way Silas used to, before he, y'know, went all Chris Brown on me.

I swallow and look down.

"Thank you," he rasps.

I meet his eyes, questioning.

"For trying to stop me. For calling the cops. Everything."

"You've gotta stop blaming yourself for Silas, Axel," I reply, my eyes downcast.

His thumb rubs the skin on the back of my hand.

"I'm trying," he replies, quiet. "I just can't stand the thought of him-of anyone-hurting you. Just knowing that he..."

He stops, blinks rapidly, staring at the ceiling.

"If anything ever happened to you..." he shakes his head.

It's quiet. He looks at me, our eyes lock for a moment. I look down, manage a small laugh.

"Says the guy lying in ICU with one kidney."

"God, Kati," he tries to laugh. "Only you."

He squeezes my hand and pulls me forward, wrapping his right arm around my neck.

I finally exhale normally, letting myself fall against him, because I know he's not going anywhere.

* * *

><p>Dad goes home later to feed Nigel and bring me some clothes and stuff. Mom is making me stay at the hospital because of my concussion and foregoing damage to my skull this year. I stay in Axel's room as much as I can. Mom arranged for him to get a good TV and we spend hours watching movies and playing Snap with the deck of cards Dad thought to bring.<p>

It's four a.m., but I don't feel tired at all. I think I was so wired for the past 16 hours that my body hasn't quite settled yet. But Axel is getting tired and halfway through Anchorman he falls asleep. He tried to stay awake, but I left the room twice when I saw him getting tired, so he'd fall asleep and nap. But both times he only slept for about an hour.

Quietly, I get up and flick off the TV. My head hurts, I realize, and I should probably sleep, too. I go back downstairs to my room, where Dad is asleep on the couch. I climb onto the bed and lay back.

"Dad?" I say quietly. But he jolts awake.

"Mmhmm? You okay?" he rubs his eyes.

"My head hurts," I answer.

He gets up and goes through a drawer, coming back with a syringe.

"This will help, baby. Try to get some sleep," he injects the pain killers into my IV, and kisses my forehead.

I'm not sure how long it takes for me feel the drugs, but he stands there, running his hand over my hair, until I drift off.

* * *

><p>The next day Axel sleeps almost the entire day. Addison comes by with some magazines and hangs out, and Amelia brings in some DVDs and squeezes onto the bed beside me for awhile.<p>

"Damn, girl, you are scaring the shit out of all of us," she says from the doorway when she arrives.

"You know me," I reply. "Always trying to keep the party going."

Max, Jenelle, Megan and Chase come visit me, too.

"Jesus Christ, Kati, you guys are really testing our capacity for anxiety this year," Max sighs, dropping a bag of candy on my table.

"Yeah, well," I shrug.

"How's Axel? We're going to see him right after you, but...I mean, how does he look?" Jenelle asks warily.

"Normal," I reply. "Until you pull up his gown and see his stomach."

"Did he really get stabbed four times?" she stares.

"Three, I think," I reply. "But he's taking it like a champ."

"What were you guys doing?" Megan asks.

"Walking down that side-street behind the boardwalk. He wanted to go to that candy store. There was this guy and a woman in an alleyway, and the guy was screaming at her and then he just backhanded her, like...she flew. It was crazy. Axel was furious and he tried to rush forward and help her and the guy just..." I shake my head.

"Jeez," Chase shakes his head. "That's crazy."

"I'm not surprised," Jenelle says. "He's always been a super chivalrous guy, but...after Silas, he just..."

"I know," I say.

"God, will you two just admit it already?" Max says emphatically.

We all look at her.

"You and Axel!" she throws up a hand. "You guys are perfect for each other. And you both know it. He's been in love with you since, like...fifth grade."

"What?" My brow furrows, pulling the stitches.

"Seriously, Kati," she shakes her head. "For someone with a near-genius IQ, you can be really off sometimes."

"Hey," I say, laughing.

"I'm serious!" she replies, looking exactly that. "He loves you. You obviously love him, regardless of how long it's taken you to realize it, so just...date already! Or get married. Christ, you'll probably end up that way anyhow."

"Don't sound so pissed about it, Max," Megan laughs.

"Not pissed, just...exasperated."

"Nice word," Chase nods, grinning.

"Are you high?" I stare at him.

"It's been a tough couple of days," he retorts.

"Don't you dare let my parents smell that on you," I laugh.

"Yeah, right," he replies. "Your mom is terrifying. I've been watching out for her since we walked in the door."

I shake my head.

"You guys should go see Axel," I say. "I'm about to get a dressing change anyway."

I see Amelia at the nurse's station, the tray in her hands.

"Dressing change?" Jenelle says.

"Bloody mess," I point to my forehead.

"Oh screw it, I'm watching this," Max declares, sitting in the chair nearest the bed.

"Clear out, kids," Amelia arrives. "I've got a wound to dress."

"Can I watch? Please?" Max begs.

Amelia looks at me and I shrug.

"Alright, but you three gotta go," Amelia agrees.

"With pleasure," Chase jumps up.

"See you later, Kati," Megan says as they reach the door.

"We'll come visit tomorrow," Jenelle promises.

"Thanks, guys."

"Max, we'll be upstairs. He's in...2342," Megan reads off her hand.

"Okay," Max replies, not even looking at them.

She stares, rapt, as Amelia removes the bandage.

"Holy f..." she says, wide-eyed, cutting herself off as Amelia glances at her. "Sorry. I'll be a silent spectator."

Amelia laughs.

"Aren't you guys used to seeing this one with her head sliced up?"

I make a face at her and she laughs.

"I didn't actually get to see the other ones, really," Max replies. "Axel did. He said it was awesome. And disgusting."

"Eloquent," Amelia replies.

Max watches intently as Amelia cleans and then redresses the wound.

"Did you even feel that?" she looks at me.

I point towards the IV bag. "My friend here refuses to let me feel anything besides awesome."

She hops up, shaking her head. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow. Try not to die before then."

She flicks up an eyebrow and leaves.

"I like her," Amelia says.

I laugh.

"So Axel is being released tomorrow," she cleans up her tray.

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"Yep. His wounds are healing really nicely, actually. He'll just be on bed rest at home. He's been pushing to go home. That kid hates hospitals."

I nod. "Can I go home, then?"

"I'd say so," she replies. "This is healing as well as can be expected and you're not throwing up or anything. Your MRI was clean and the swelling has really gone down."

"We both know there's only one person who can sign me out of here," I reply.

"I'll talk to her," Amelia smiles. "Get some rest. You look exhausted."

* * *

><p>"Would it be so bad if we just kept you here forever," Dad asks, coming in to my room with Starbucks, and handing me a passion tea lemonade.<p>

"Yes it would," I reply. "Thanks." I hold up the tea.

"Are you sure? Because I think it's great here," he gestures around us. "You have everything you need."

"Except a life," I reply.

He sighs. "There is that."

"So Mom's going to sign me out?" I say hopefully.

He holds up a chart. "Already signed."

"Thank god," I say, leaning my head back.

"I brought you some clothes," he points to my TNA bag. "And Mom is coming in to help you get a shirt over your head."

"Always there in a bind," I nod.

He chuckles and takes my chart out to the nurses' station.

Mom arrives and closes the blinds and the door.

"Don't make me regret this," she says.

"Regret helping me get dressed?"

"You know what I mean," she tilts her head, helping me get off the bed. "I would have no problem keeping you here all week."

"Yeah, but we're old hands at head injuries," I counter. She doesn't appreciate the joke.

She pulls a t-shirt out of my bag as I slip off the hospital gown.

"You are giving me grey hairs," she sighs, carefully getting the shirt over my head.

"Can't tell," I reply.

She almost smiles and I pull out a pair of yoga pants.

"Axel's leaving tomorrow?" I ask, pulling them on.

"Yep," she nods. "First thing."

"Good."

"And from now on, let's make it a priority to keep you out of this hospital, alright?" she raises an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes. "Because all of this was so much fun."

She kisses my forehead, holding my face in her hands a moment longer, to stare at me.

"I love you."


	61. Chapter 61

I'm allowed to go home, but apparently Mom and Dad aren't. They come home with me and I hole up on the couch, watching a movie with Mom while she does paperwork. But when I wake up, it's dark out and Addison is sitting on the couch beside me.

"Heeyyyy, Lobotomy Jane," she grins.

Groggy, I stare at her. The grin stays.

"Are you my new mommy?" I ask.

"Ha," she cackles. "I wish."

I sit up and rub my eyes.

"Your parents got called in to the hospital. Separately, but within the same hour. Your mom called me about an hour ago and asked me to come watch you sleep," she says mischievously.

"The creepy thing is, you probably did."

She laughs. "Kind of. I even pulled up an eyelid once to make sure your pupils were reactive."

I laugh and shake my head.

"Do you want a smoothie? I brought you one when I came over, but stuck it in the freezer for you."

"Yes please," I yawn.

She comes back and hands me the cup.

"So I have some news," she smiles, obviously having wanted to spill it.

"That's not your natural hair color?" I guess.

"No comment," she replies. "This is huge. I made Amelia not say anything, but now I have to because it has all unfolded over the last couple of days to just be...amazing."

"Well come on," I say, sitting up more and turning to face her.

"Okay, so...Amelia's been out of rehab for almost five months," she begins.

I nod.

"She found out about a month ago that she's pregnant."

I stare at her.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," she nods. "It was pretty hard for her because...well, it's Ryan's."

"Oh, wow...Five months? And she's just noticing?"

"Mmm not really. She started feeling weird a couple months ago, but chalked it up to a cold and just her body adjusting to being...sober."

"Wait, is the baby...going to be okay?"

"I'm almost positive, yes. The baby had to have been conceived on that last night. She was high when she conceived, but never after that."

"So she knew at Thanksgiving?"

"Yes. She just kept quiet because she didn't know what to say. Or do."

"Oh my god," I say. My mouth stays slightly open.

"Yeah. It's...a miracle, really."

"This is...oh my god... Does everybody know?"

"Now they do. We told everybody yesterday."

"We?"

"Amelia and I."

I stare at her, wondering what she's building up to.

"Amelia isn't...ready. To be a mother. She's never really wanted kids, and...well. She's thought about it all of this time, and she asked me if...if I would want to adopt the baby."

I swallow. "Oh my god."

Her smile is huge.

"That's amazing, Addie," I stare at her. "I mean, how long have you been waiting for this? This is incredible! And she's basically family, so it's...wow. You're going to be such an amazing mother."

"Thanks," she smiles, her eyes glassy. "I'm so...I dunno. Still in disbelief."

"Is Amelia going to be like...an aunt?"

Addison nods. "She wants to know the baby, she just thinks her being a mother isn't in the baby's best interest, or hers."

"And...Sam?"

She wrinkles her nose. "I'm not really sure what's going to happen there. We've been pretty rocky lately."

"Really?"

"Yeah, since...well, before Thanksgiving, really. And you know his stance on a baby. He's not really looking to be a father to another baby..."

She looks sad, but not overly.

"You're going to be make a really great mother," I say, squeezing her hand.

She smiles and a couple of tears spill over. "I'm so...I dunno. I can't believe it. I'm so happy."

I hug her.

"So...when? When is the little bean going to arrive?"

"End of March," she replies. "I only have four months to get everything ready. But then...four months seems like forever."

"It'll fly by," I say. "You'll be so busy setting everything up and 'nesting'."

"Such a weird term," she laughs.

I realize that my smoothie is sweating like crazy. I set it on the table.

"This is amazing," I shake my head. "I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks, honey," she smiles.

She wipes her eyes, a permanent smile on her face.

"So. What about you? Axel goes home tomorrow?" she says.

"Yeah. I'm gonna go see him later in the day, hopefully. But Mom definitely won't let me know drive, so she'll probably come with me."

"You have had quite the year, babe," she shakes her head.

"Yeah," I sigh, pushing at my cuticles. "I didn't think it could get any worse."

"You're strong," she squeezes my arm. "Stronger than a lot of adults I know."

I give a breathy laugh. "Doesn't feel that way."

"Trust me," she says firmly.

It's quiet for a moment until the silence is broken by a loud sigh from Nigel.

We laugh.

"What a guy," she shakes her head.

"One of a kind," I nod.

"Well," she looks at her watch. "It's eight. You hungry?"

"Actually, yeah. I couldn't stomach any of that hospital food."

"Let's order in," she jumps up to get her phone. "What are you feeling? Thai? Greek?"

"Greek? Who delivers Greek?" I ask, interested.

She flops back onto the couch.

"New place beside the Thai place. It's delicious. I had it three times last week."

"Sold," I reply.

I stand up to stretch while she calls the restaurant. I feed Nigel and brush my teeth.

"Half an hour," she says when I get back to the living room.

"Do you know what it is?" I ask suddenly.

"Um...Greek food?" she cocks her head.

"No," I smile. "The baby."

"Oh," she grins. "No. Amelia does. I haven't decided if I want to know yet."

"I wouldn't," I shrug. "Think of how exciting that moment in the delivery room will be if you wait."

"I think so, too," she nods.

Her smile is huge and unwavering, and I feel so happy for her. I'm glad she told me, in the middle of all of this business with Axel and the stabbing. It's something warm and real to hold onto, when everything else feels wobbly.


	62. Chapter 62

The next afternoon can't come fast enough. Exhausted, I sleep until 11:00, and then get to enjoy the awesome job of showering without getting my bandages wet. Not being able to wash my hair sucks.

To pass the time, I work on some school work, but I watch the clock.

I read for awhile, try to watch a movie, but it's all useless. At 3:00 I give up trying.

"We have to go over now," I sigh to Mom.

She looks up from the kitchen table, where she is surrounded by paperwork.

She considers me for a second. "Alright," she agrees, gathering some papers. "Go on and get dressed."

I hurry upstairs and change out of the baggy sweatpants.

Half an hour later, we pull up to his house. People have left flowers all over the porch.

Mom follows me to the door. Before I can knock, the door opens up and Mrs Mason smiles.

"Hi, sweetheart," she hugs me. "I figured we could expect you early"

She winks and moves to gently push me inside.

"He's in the living room."

She greets Mom as I hurry inside and find Axel, settled into the huge couch in front of the TV.

"Hey, girl," he looks up, grinning.

"They decided to let you out," I reply, falling onto the couch next to him.

He hugs me.

"Well, all the nurses kept hittin' on me during sponge baths," he shrugs. "I was a distraction to their work."

I laugh.

Allegra comes running out from the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

"Kati," she cries, coming to hug me.

"Hey, Allegra," I smile. "How are you?"

"Good," she smiles. At 10, she's tall for her age and very smart, as with all of the Masons. "Axel said you saved his life."

"Axel's on a lot of painkillers right now," I reply, gesturing to her that he's crazy.

She giggles, and then hugs me again. "Thank you for saving him anyway."

I smile and she flops down next to me.

"Why don't you show Kati your new guitar?" Axel says.

She jumps up and hurries off to her room.

"She hasn't stopped talking about learning guitar since Jamie's funeral, when you sang. She knew you played, but now she's got her heart set on being the next Taylor Swift."

I blush and Allegra runs back in, carrying a brand new guitar.

"Is this a Gibson?" I stare at Axel after looking at the guitar.

He shrugs. "It was the one she liked."

"You bought her a $5000 guitar?" I stare, open-mouthed.

"No," he says, as though this is ridiculous. "It was $3000. And my dad bought it."

"Do you like it?" Allegra smiles.

"Allegra, it's beautiful. It's an amazing guitar," I reply honestly.

"I can play a song already," she says excitedly. "Do you want to hear?"

"Yes," I reply, as though this is obvious.

She settles onto the sectional across from us and plays Good Riddance by Green Day. I smile; it's one of the first songs I learned when I was six.

I watch as Allegra painstakingly watches her fingers, working to stretch them onto the right frets.

Axel grins, watching her.

"She's good, huh?" he says.

"Gonna be a rock star in no time," I agree.

Allegra smiles, finishing the bar she's on.

"I love it," she says. "I'm gonna go practice."

She smiles and takes off to her bedroom.

"That's the kind you have, right? A Gibson?" Axel asks.

"Yeah," I nod. "They don't get any better than those."

Mom and Mrs Mason walk into the living room, stepping down into the sunken area.

"You kids need anything?" Mrs Mason asks. "I've got some of that raspberry ginger ale, Kati."

"That would be great, Mom," Axel replies. "Thanks."

She brings us two cans and then she and Mom go out to sit on the patio.

"How're the stab wounds?" I ask, cracking open the can.

He lifts his shirt, exposing a large area of bandaged skin. "Expansive."

"Hurt much?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Not too bad. They gave me Vicodin."

He grins.

"Perfect. You'll be acting like House in no time."

He laughs. "Nah, that dude is fucked."

"But hilarious," I counter.

"But hilarious," he nods.

I settle back into the huge couch as he flips channels.

"What are you feelin'?" he asks.

"Oo, Rocket City Rednecks," I point.

He laughs. "These guys are awesome."

He changes the channel.

"How's your head?"

I shrug. "Not bad at all. Definitely the least painful of my three other head injuries this year."

He shakes his head. "That's fucked up. I can't believe this year."

I nod.

"What are you thinking of doing for...for next Sunday?"

I swallow. Next Sunday is the 18th.

"I'm not sure," I reply quietly.

He takes my hand and squeezes it.

"You still haven't been to..." He means the cemetery. I shake my head.

"I'll come with you. I mean, if you want. Whatever you wanna do."

I think, and nod slowly. I offer a small smile. "Maybe...thanks."

He stares at me and squeezes my hand again.

"What about Christmas?" he asks after a minute, trying to cheer me up. "Where are you guys jetting off to this year?"

"Well, I wanted to go snowboarding in Aspen," I reply. "But...I'm pretty sure there's nothing I could say or do to make Mom and Dad take me anywhere that involves me running the risk of hitting my head again. I think I'm on my last legs when it comes to cracking my skull against things."

He laughs. "And with good reason. We're going to St. Lucia. You guys should come."

"Will your stitches even be out by then?" I ask, calculating in my head that Christmas is in two weeks.

"Should be," he replies. "Your mom said they could probably come out right before we leave."

I nod slowly. "St. Lucia would be nice," I reply.

I've never been there, which means I've never been there with Jamie. And I don't want to spend the first Christmas without her surrounded by a place that reminds me of her. I'm already going to be immersed in memories of her as it is.

"You should talk to your docs about it," he grins. "Get that pale skin some sun."

"Hey," I lightly hit his chest. "I am anemic."

He laughs, covering himself. "I'm just playin'. You always look beautiful."

I blush, and then Atticus walks into the room.

"I thought I heard delightfully dry sarcasm coming from this room," he grins.

"Hey," I smile, standing to hug him. "How are you doing?"

"Forget that, girl, how are YOU doing?" he holds my shoulders, looking at me straight on.

"I'm fine," I reply. "Really."

"Good," he smiles, hugging me again. "And thanks for trying to keep this bonehead out of trouble."

Axel playfully kicks at him. Atticus dodges him and laughs. He falls onto the couch so Axel is between us.

We watch TV, hanging out like we normally would. Like I didn't almost die several times this year, and Silas never happened, and Axel isn't without a kidney. Allegra comes in and hops onto Atticus' lap, and everything feels blissfully normal.


	63. Chapter 63

The next week goes by quickly. I visit Axel every day, keeping him company as he's stuck on the couch. I fill up the extra hours with school work, and I sleep restlessly. By the time Sunday rolls around, I feel like there's a rock in my stomach.

I wake up and the sun is deceivingly bright, as though it has no idea that today would have been Jamie's 17th birthday. I don't get out of bed. I lie there, Nigel snoring beside me, staring out the window.

"Hey, sugar," Mom says softly.

I look over and see her in the doorway.

"Sleep okay?"

I shrug, turning back to the window.

"Come have some breakfast," she suggests.

I shake my head.

She comes in and kisses my forehead, and then leaves me alone, knowing that's what I want.

I stare at a picture on my desk. It's a framed photo of Jamie and I at the beach last summer. We look like average teenagers. Laughing at something one of us said. I don't even try to push back the tears that start. Today, they should be allowed to fall freely. Today, is about Jamie.

Eventually I drag myself out of bed and get dressed. I open my desk drawer and feel along the bottom until I find it. Her favorite guitar pick. It's nothing special, when it comes to picks. It's just plain white, except that day we'd decorated an entire bag of white picks with Sharpies. Little hearts and music notes, and our initials. Eventually, like hair ties and bobby pins, the picks were all lost. Except for two. We each had one left, and swore we'd save them and never use them. It was in Jamie's guitar case when George dropped all of her stuff in our atrium.

I finger the pick, turning it over in my hand. I sigh deeply and stick it in my pocket. I slip my bag over my shoulder and head downstairs. Nigel follows, expecting his breakfast.

"Hey, honey," Dad smiles.

"Hey," I reply quietly. "Can you feed Nigel?"

"Sure, honey. Are you going out?"

I nod, pulling on some shoes.

"Do you want me to drive you?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I'll be back in awhile, okay?"

"Honey, maybe I should-"

"I'm okay, Dad. My head is fine. I just...I'll see you later."

He looks at me, worried, but eventually nods.

I nod once and leave, hearing Mom say something as I close the door.

I get in my car and drive. I pass familiar houses and parks. I reach the pond that will eventually lead to where I'm going.

I pull up to the funeral home and get out. I study the directory and find Jamie's name. I don't feel badly about not knowing where her plot is. I know it wouldn't matter to her how many times I came to visit her here, when I consider her to be with me all the time. In some way.

I sigh and begin my walk across the cemetery. Her plot is a little ways away, near the pond. I walk and glance at the passing tombstones. I say the names in my head. Boller. Pryor. Heinrichs. Quinn.

I stop when I know I'm close. I pull the pick out of my pocket and play with it as I stare ahead to where her tombstone will be. I look down at my hands, at the pick, colored purple and green and blue.

I inhale. Think of Jamie. Exhale. Keep walking.

When I reach her stone, I feel my heart stutter. She's been gone for almost a year, but the image of her name on a tombstone is still so wrong to me. There are flowers around it. Jamie's name, her birthday...and her death. "Beloved daughter and friend", it says below. 'Friend', I think. What an inadequate word. She was not my friend. She was my sister. She was the other half of me. She was a fierce force to be reckoned with when anyone messed with me. Friend doesn't begin to encapsulate Jamie.

"Well," I say out loud. "It took me awhile but...I'm here."

After a moment, I drop my bag and sink slowly to my knees.

I know I say that she's with me all the time, but the fact that her body is lying beneath my feet makes me feel as though I can talk to her here, and she'll hear me louder. More clearly. It makes no sense, even to me, but I ignore the confusion and just keep talking, because I don't know what else to do.

"So...this has been a pretty weird year...You died...and for a long time, I felt like I did, too. Or I guess...I wished I had. I had my head sliced open a couple times. You'd probably think it was gross, but you also would have wanted to see it. I can only imagine the names you would have come up with about it...but I came up with the Freddie Krueger reference, so...don't even think about taking credit for that one..." I sigh, exhaling deeply. "Big Daddy died. But I'm guessing in some weird afterlife the two of you probably met up and got trashed off bourbon. I don't think there's anybody alive that you couldn't talk to and get to talk back...Um...Silas tried to kill me. Well, he tried to rape me, but...when that wasn't working he tried to kill me. Then I almost killed him..."

I stare at her name.

"If there's any way you can manipulate karma, you should probably give him gonorrhea or something. Although apparently rapists are already considered the scum of any prison, so...I suppose he's getting some Girl with the Dragon Tattoo action, in regards to his ass...so that's good, I guess..."

I pick at the grass. It's greener than most places.

"I still miss you...every day. All the time. Christmas is going to be weird...today is weird. Do you think it's pathetic if I buy half a dozen Crave cupcakes and eat them all myself? Because I don't...I actually think...that would be good."

I watch a bird land on the tree across from me, by the water. Sigh again.

"So...I think I love Axel...but you already knew that. I'm sure you're standing up yelling 'I told you so' to anyone who will listen. I'm sure someone's already told you to shut up...such a loudmouth..."

Tears drip. I hadn't realized I was crying.

"I'm not going to do anything about it, though...not yet, anyway. Maybe some day...but probably not...he asked me to prom. But...I'm not sure if I'll go...I'm just going to graduate early and worry about Berkeley."

I stretch my leg out; it's falling asleep from me sitting on it.

"I was thinking of joining a sorority. Just to piss you off...but I doubt any reaction you could conjure up would go unnoticed by me. It would probably be something like a storm...lots of thunder...which isn't scary or eerie at all, so...I probably won't join one after all. Besides, I'm sure I'd hate all of them anyways...and they'd hate me. I'm not exactly...sorority material."

I sigh.

"I guess I just wanted to come and see...you. Here. That day of your funeral, I left pretty quickly. It was pretty hard...but. I'm here now. I want you to know that I miss you. And I think about you every day. I haven't heard from your dad since he gave me all of your stuff, but...I don't expect to. I'm sure he's been spending his time trying not to think about anything except law...everybody misses you. Everybody. But...me, most of all. I don't think anybody could miss anybody more than I miss you. I don't think I'll ever fill the hole you left, but...I've come to terms with that, I think. It is what it is..."

I stare at her tombstone, wiping more tears away.

I lean forward and press the pick into the grass just below her stone. I push it in so the only part showing is a thin white line.

"You'll need music up there as much as you needed it down here," I say quietly.

I stand up, slowly, and wipe the grass off my pants.

"I love you," I manage. "But...I'm learning to let you go."

And then I turn around and walk away, letting the tears fall.


	64. Chapter 64

Mom and Dad watch me all day. They think I don't notice, but they are being anything but subtle. Whenever I look up, they are quickly looking in the other direction or pretending to look over patient files.

"Stop, Mom," I sigh, when she does it for the hundredth time.

"Stop what, sugar?" she asks, setting down her paperwork.

"Stop watching me like I'm about fall over and break open on the floor," I reply, irritated.

"Kati," she starts.

"No, just stop. You're both making me feel like some kind of mental patient," I snap, getting up off the couch and going upstairs.

I close my bedroom door, wishing I could just sleep. I just want this day to be over and done with. My phone lights up and I see three texts from Axel. He's wondering where I am; wants to know if he can drive me to the cemetery.

I drop the phone face down on my desk and run my hands through my hair. I exhale loudly. I'm antsy. I stand there for I don't know how long, holding my hair, staring at the collage of photos of Jamie and me on my desk.

I try to play my guitar, but it doesn't help. So I lie on my carpet for awhile, staring at the ceiling. I can hear Mom and Dad whispering to each other. It sounds like they're right outside my door.

I hate how angry I feel today. It's not like me, and I hate it. I get up and throw open my bedroom door.

Sure enough, they are both standing there. Mom stares at me, wide-eyed like a kid who's been caught stealing, and Dad just looks at me sadly.

"What?" I say, sharper than I usually speak to them.

"Honey, we're just worried. Do you...wanna talk about it?"

"Do I want to talk about the only thing we EVER talk about anymore? The only thing I wish I could forget, but I can't, because every time I turn around there's something new? Or how about the fact that today would have been my best friend's birthday, but I never get to celebrate another one with her again, because I never get to SEE her again. So I get to spend the rest of MY life spending every December 18th thinking about her. Missing her. So no. I don't want to talk. I don't want to talk about Jamie, or me, or how I'm feeling, or how you both keep treating me like glass. Just stop."

I bite off the last word and pass them, going down the stairs, grabbing my bag and slamming the front door before Mom can even finish saying my name.

* * *

><p>I drive. I don't know what else to do, I just don't want to be this angry.<p>

I find myself driving to Pete and Violet's house. Pete is outside with Lucas when I get there. Lucas happily hurries over to see me. I can't not smile at him, he's so cute. But I don't stay to play with him.

"Is Violet home?" I ask.

"Yeah, she's inside. Go on in," Pete replies. "Kati...are you okay?"

"Fantastic," I reply, offering a slight wave.

I go in the front door and find Violet on the couch, reading.

"Kati," she says, getting up. "Hey, honey."

She comes to hug me, and I love her for not immediately asking me what's wrong. Instead, she just places her hand on my back and leads me towards the kitchen.

"What are you reading?" I ask, because I want to talk about anything but Jamie, while at the same time wanting her to tell me how to push Jamie out of the painful spot she's manned since the accident.

"Mudbound. Have you read it?"

I nod. "Yeah, I really liked it. Kind of like The Help."

She gets a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge, grabs two glasses and gestures towards her patio.

"I just can't imagine living in a place that blatantly racist and corrupt," she says, pouring iced tea.

"Yeah," I say quietly, running a thumb over my glass.

She sits across from me and is quiet. Waiting, probably gauging my mood.

"Today must be very hard for you," she says after a moment.

I keep my head pointed away from her, moving my eyes to glance at her. I look away and nod.

"Did you go to the cemetery?"

"Yeah," I say softly. "I hadn't gone...since the funeral."

"That's okay. Cemeteries can be a lot to handle. For me, I don't think I have to go to someone's grave in order to feel closer to them. When my grandmother died when I was 16, I didn't go to her grave after the funeral. I went once, about a year later. I think it was Christmas...but I've never been back. To me, I just think she's a part of me, regardless of where she 'is'," she shrugs.

I swallow. Nod.

She lets me be silent.

"How long does it have to hurt like this for?" I ask after a couple minutes. My eyes sting, but I refuse to let any tears fall. I avoid Violet's gaze.

"Like this? Not forever. It'll get easier, but not if you avoid it."

I consider this. I haven't been avoiding dealing with Jamie. I've just been doing it slowly.

"I don't mean that you're avoiding dealing with it," she adds, as though she read my mind. "I just mean that if you try to ignore and push away the pain when it feels the worst, it'll do more harm than good. You know?"

"I know," I reply. "I just...I feel...too angry today. I snapped at Mom and Dad. Like, if today wasn't today, Mom would have shot lasers through her eyes at me for talking to her like that. And Dad...he just looks at me like I'm three and he's physically in pain."

"Well. Cooper's always going to look at you like you're three. They're just worried about you. I can't imagine having to watch Lucas go through losing someone so important to him. I think, as a parent, you just want to put your baby in a bubble and make sure nothing and nobody ever hurts them. Even now, when he cries over falling down or not being allowed to have candy...I hate it. I feel like the worst mother ever. But..." she shakes her head. "Pain isn't something we get to avoid. As hard as some people try. It helps make you who you are. Makes you stronger, in the long run."

"You hate when people say that," I almost smile.

She laughs. "That's true. But doesn't everyone hate hearing that when they're hurting the most?"

"I guess," I agree.

She leans forward and takes my hands. "You're gonna be okay, Kati. And the things that hurt the most today, won't always hurt that much. I promise."

My eyes tingle so I have to look away from her.

She pulls me to stand up.

"Oh, you are so Charlotte King's daughter," she smiles. "Always thinking it's a terrible thing to let someone see you cry."

She hugs me, and it makes me let a few tears fall.

"Let it hurt," she says, rubbing my back. "And then let it go."

* * *

><p>I stay at Pete and Violet's for a little while, because sitting out on the grass with Lucas while he plays with his toys makes me feel better. He's so blissfully happy out there, so safe and unharmed, that it feels good to be around. He makes me smile, and his laugh is infectious. When Violet comes out and tells him it's time for his bath, I realize it's almost 6. I've been here for hours.<p>

I help Violet get Lucas to clean up his toys and then get him inside.

"You wanna stay for dinner, sweetie?" Violet asks, picking him up.

"No," I smile. "Thanks. I should go home. I didn't bring my phone and Mom and Dad are probably close to exploding."

"I called them," she smiles. "You're in the clear."

I nod my appreciation. "Thanks, Violet," I say, and we both know I don't mean the phone call.

"Anytime, honey," she hugs me, Lucas propped on her hip. "I'm always here."

* * *

><p>When I get home, Mom and Dad are on the couch.<p>

"Hey," Mom says, testing the waters.

"Hey," I say quietly.

I drop my bag and go to the couch, sitting beside her. Dad looks at me, and I know what Violet meant, because right now he looks like he'd cut off his own arm to make my own pain stop.

"I'm sorry," I say. "For snapping at you guys."

Mom smiles, tucking hair behind my ear. "I know, baby," she says, her palm on my cheek. "Today was a hard one."

I sigh, feeling relieved after talking to Violet and apologizing to them.

"It's okay, sweetie," Dad says, squeezing my hand. "I don't know of anyone who wouldn't have been on edge today."

I nod, looking down at my hands; scraping at a bit of nail polish.

"I went to the cemetery," I say. "But I don't think I'm gonna go back again."

"That's okay, darlin'," Mom says gently.

My eyes sting, so I exhale deeply. "I'm gonna go have a shower."

"Maybe give Axel a call after, honey. He's called about 17 times," Dad says.

I give a breathy laugh. "Okay."

Upstairs, I check my phone. "Jesus," I say, reading the glut of texts from Axel, Max, Jenelle and Megan. There are texts from Addison and Amelia, too, with simply a heart in it.

I call Axel.

"Hey," he says, picking up quickly; sounding relieved. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I reply. "Sorry. I just...guess I needed to be alone today."

"I wish I could have been there," he says. "I was worried about you."

"I'm alright," I say.

"You'd say that even if you were breaking apart inside," he says, matter-of-factly.

I laugh. "Maybe."

"Definitely," he corrects.

"I'm gonna go take a shower and just hang out at home, I think," I say.

"I want to see you tomorrow, then," he replies. "I won't believe you're okay until I see you face to face, where you can't lie."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," I smile.

"Alright. Take it easy, girl. Try to have a better night."

"Thanks," I say.

"I..." he starts.

"Mmhmm?" I say, after he's silent for a moment.

"Nothing. I mean, I'll see you tomorrow. Night," he says hurriedly.

"Okay," I say. "G'night.


	65. Chapter 65

The next day I go see Axel, because I know he'll be waiting to hear from me. He's happy to see me, but doesn't ask about yesterday, and I love him for it. He knows I'll bring it up when I want to talk about it.

He's still sore and can't do much, but his family hasn't cancelled their Christmas vacation plans for St. Lucia. Apparently, neither have mine.

"So are you all packed?" Axel asks as we're sprawled on his couch watching The Pineapple Express.

"For what?" I ask, picking banana Runts from the bowl and giving them to Axel. "Ew, take these."

"For St. Lucia," he laughs, eating the candy.

I look at him.

"What?" my brow furrows.

"Christmas?" he tries.

I've been so caught up with Jamie's birthday yesterday that I forgot that Christmas is in six days.

"Oh. Are we doing that?" I ask, sucking on a grape Runt.

"Yes. Well, according to my mom you are. She and your mom had it planned, I guess?"

I stare at nothing. "Huh. I didn't even ask."

I get out my phone and call Mom.

"Hey, sugar," she says, picking up.

"Hey. Are we going to St. Lucia?"

"Yes. We leave tomorrow. Did you forget?"

"Uh...yes. Yes I did. Did you tell me about it?"

"Several times, baby. You weren't exactly taking in the information, though. I wrote it on your whiteboard."

"Oh," I say, looking at Axel. He raises his eyebrows; I nod and shrug my shoulders.

"I set out your luggage this morning, darlin'. Make sure you pack tonight. Pete and Violet are picking us up at 6 tomorrow mornin'."

"Pete and Violet?"

"Yes, sugar. Addison and Amelia are also coming."

"Well, shit," I say, dropping a banana Runt into Axel's lap.

"Nice," Mom says sarcastically. "Look, baby, I've gotta wrap up some work here and then I'll see you at home later, alright?"

"Okay," I sigh. "Bye."

"Love you."

"Love you, too," I say, and hang up.

"So I'm going to St. Lucia for Christmas," I say, tossing my phone aside.

"You don't say," Axel acts impressed. "Lucky you."

I find the final few banana candies and push them into his hand with a look of disgust.

"How can you hate banana Runts this much? They're the best ones," he laughs.

"They're disgusting. I don't even want them to touch the other Runts," I reply.

"Aight, fine. But gimme a few of them strawberry ones, too." 

Later that afternoon we move to the deck, because Mrs. Mason says Axel isn't getting enough fresh air.

"We're leaving for the Caribbean tomorrow, Ma," he replies, settling into a lounge chair.

"And thank Jesus for that," she replies. "Both of you need to get away from this...year."

"Amen," I say under my breath.

"Kati, honey, are you staying for dinner?"

"Oh, no thanks. I have to go pack for this vacation. I forgot about it."

"Alright, honey," she touches my head and goes back inside.

"You excited? Now that you know about it?" Axel smirks.

"Exhilarated," I reply.

He laughs. "You'll have fun," he says, squeezing my hand. "Promise."

We hang out for another hour before I say I have to go pack. He walks me to the door, giving me a tight hug.

"See you in the morning," he says.

"I plan to sleep through most of the trip," I inform him.

He smiles, kisses my forehead and I leave, smiling at him. 

That night Mom pokes her head into my room.

"How's the packing going?"

I stare down at my huge purple luggage, and look back up at her as if this explains everything.

There are clothes everywhere; hardly any, of which, are in the suitcase itself.

She laughs, coming in. "Well, what's the problem? You've got enough clothes for you, me, Addison AND Amelia."

"I'm just scatterbrained," I sigh. "How long are we staying for?"

"Ten days," she replies, bending over to pick up several bikinis.

"Okay," I sigh. "Can you toss those in, please?" I gesture towards the bathing suits.

"Good lord, child, how many of these do you have now?" she holds up a purple bandeau-bikini.

"Seventeen," I stare at her, wide-eyed.

She shakes her head. "I suppose I can't judge. I packed 13."

I toss all of the bikinis into the bottom of my suitcase, before sitting on the bed to count out some shorts.

Mom sits on the floor and starts folding t-shirts.

"You lookin' forward to getting away?"

I nod. "Yeah. I mean, even though we basically just got home...It'll be a nice trip."

"Absolutely. I booked us in for a couple of spa days, too. Just you and me."

"Thanks, Mom," I grin. "How did Dad feel about that?"

"Jealous," she smiles. "But he set one up for himself. And I'm pretty sure Pete is going with him."

I laugh. She sets a stack of t-shirts in the suitcase and starts on my tank tops.

"Axel looking forward to getting away, too?"

"Mmhmm. I think Allegra is the most excited. She's been wearing a bathing suit for days."

"She's a little sweetheart," Mom smiles. "You must be glad to spend some one-on-one time with Axel."

I tilt my head towards her.

"What?" she says.

I shake my head.

"You know as well as I do that that boy is in love with you. No one's expected you to do much about it, because you've been bogged down with so many other things...but, baby. You deserve to be happy. And he makes you happy. Doesn't he?"

I think about it, and nod. "Yeah. But he's my best friend. Well, aside from Jamie, I mean. But...sometimes people break up and it ruins the friendship they had in the first place. I wouldn't want to risk losing him because of something like that."

"Haven't even gone a real date and you're planning the breakup?"

"Mom," I say.

"Come on, Kati," she replies, with a gentle smile. "You can't plan your life out. And you definitely can't plan things while thinkin' the whole time that nothing is gonna work out."

"I know," I say after a minute.

"Well," she says, setting a stack of clothes in my suitcase. "Think about it."

She kisses my forehead and heads towards the door.

"Dinner in 20 minutes. Dad ordered Thai and everyone's comin' over."

I nod and she leaves.

I finish folding up a few zip-up sweaters and set them in the now-full suitcase.

"Jesus, Nigel," I turn to him, snoozing on my bed. "I packed enough for a month and I could still fit you in here."

He lazily opens an eye, and continues snoring.

"Well I'm sure you'll have fun with Sam," I go on. "You'll get plenty of walks while he uses you as Lady Bait."


	66. Chapter 66

The next morning Mom wakes me up at 4:30. I do not respond well to this. Anything before 7 and I feel grumpy and hazy.

I drag a brush through my hair but it stays messy-curly, so I flip my hood up over it. I pull on loose yoga pants and fill a carry-on bag with a couple of new magazines, several books, my iPod and my iPad and slowly drag my huge suitcase down the stairs. Dad catches up to me halfway down and takes it from me.

"You go on ahead alone, Crypt Keeper," he teases.

I stare at him, tired and a little grumpy, before turning and going downstairs. Mom is filling her and Dad's travel mugs with coffee. Wordlessly, as Dad rolls our luggage out to the car, Mom hands me a small carton of orange juice. I take it as she kisses my forehead, hurrying around the kitchen.

"Alright, sugar, let's go," she says.

She turns off the lights and hurries me out the door. Unfortunately, I don't move quickly this early, so she slows down to my pace until we're outside, and then she hurries to the car, holding out Dad's coffee.

"Thanks, honey," he smiles, taking it and closing the hatchback. "Everyone has everything?"

We get in the car. He turns to look at me from the front seat, a huge grin on his face. I stare and offer up a small, unenthusiastic smile.

"Your excitement is infectious, sweetheart," he says, smiling.

"I wish I could say the same about your animation," I reply, pulling my hood over my face and leaning against the door to sleep. 

At the airport, we see that we're the last to arrive. Everyone gets up to greet us and get in line. 'Good mornings' are exchanged, and everyone hugs, but I'm still not fully awake so I just let the hugs happen, tiredly moving along beside Mom.

Despite having broken up with Sam recently, Addison looks happy and excited to be going on a vacation. She and Amelia hurry over to us, hugging everyone.

"Say nothing, Grim Reaper. I know you love mornings," Addison teases, giving me a hug.

I smile and hug Amelia, too.

"Good morning, darkness" Axel wraps an arm around me, smiling.

I stretch my face into a smile and he laughs and leads us towards the line up. Already used to how I feel first thing in the morning, he doesn't try to chat, he just talks with Dad while we slowly make our way to the front of the queue.

When the woman weighs my suitcase, she informs me that I'm 15 pounds over the limit. I hang my head for a minute, exhaling, before looking up at Dad. He just laughs and hands over his credit card.

"I'll just pay the fee," he tells her. "Don't anger it." He tilts his head towards me, and the woman smiles.

Mom swats at him, but he just laughs and Axel puts his arm back around my shoulders and leads me towards our gate. 

The flight is about nine hours long. I have the window seat beside Mom, and the seats in first class are big so I manage to curl up and fall asleep. When I wake up, I feel a lot better than I did when we first boarded.

"Hey, you," Mom says, pushing hair from my face. "Sleep okay?"

I nod, rubbing my eyes.

"Lord knows how you're able to just curl up and sleep just about anywhere," she says.

"I just have a deep love for sleep," I reply, running my hand through my hair. "How long was I asleep?"

"About five hours," Mom smiles. "We had a pool going."

"Oh yeah? Who gets the pot?"

"Addison," she replies. "She said five hours, everyone else was upwards of six. Axel was sure you'd sleep through the whole flight."

I smile, stretching my stiff muscles, and look over to see Addison waving a small fan of cash at me.

"You're welcome," I smile.

I look around and see that Axel, Allegra and Atticus are all asleep now. Amelia is reading, Addison is on her iPad, Pete and Violet are watching the movie while Lucas colors, Dad is reading, and the Masons are reading the newspaper.

"What are you reading?" I ask Mom.

"The Bielski Brothers," she replies. "I stole it off your bookshelf."

"It's a good one," I yawn.

A flight attendant comes by, smiling.

"Good morning, Miss Freedman. How was your sleep?"

"Fantastic," I smile.

"May I get you anything? You missed breakfast. I could bring you some if you like?"

"Oh, yes please."

"What would you like to drink?"

"I would love the largest orange juice you can possibly bring me," I reply.

"Of course," she smiles.

"Thank you," I say, as she hurries away.

"Bathroom is up on your right," Mom says, knowing me so well.

I smile, tilt my head and get up to pass her.

By the time Axel wakes up, three hours later, there's only about an hour left in the flight. Allegra switches places with me, coming to sit with Mom, so I can sit beside him and play a heated game of Battleship on my iPad.

"How can you sleep so long on an airplane? I feel like my neck is twisted," he says, rubbing his neck.

"Ask Pete to give you some acupuncture," I reply.

"Hell no," he replies.

Pete, directly across the aisle, looks up. "Hey!"

"No offense, doc. I just don't do needles."

"You can't even feel them," he replies.

Axle shakes his head. "Nah. No way."

"Baby," I reply.

He mocks being offended, and I laugh. Just then, a woman in the first row screams.

"Oh my god! My husband! Someone, please help him!"

She's younger, and blonde, and her husband looks to be about 20 years old than her.

Immediately, Amelia, Addison, Mom and Dad all look up and start to get out of their seats.

"Everyone, please remain seated," the head flight attendant appears, holding up his hands.

"He's not breathing," the wife cries. "Please! Is anyone here a doctor?"

"I am," come four replies.

Everyone else in first-class turns to stare at our group, and through the curtain I can hear people talking in coach.

The four of them hurry forward to find the man slumped over in his seat.

"What happened?" Amelia demands.

"I'm not sure, he was just eating and he grabbed his throat, and..." the wife is freaking out, trying to breathe and talk at the same time.

"Ma'am, just try to calm down. Is your husband allergic to anything?" Addison asks, as Amelia tries to help the man.

"Yes, um, strawberries and...um, peanuts. He's very allergic to peanuts."

Dad and Mom look around on the floor, and Dad darts down and stands back up with a wrapper.

He looks at it.

"Did your husband eat this?"

"Yes," the woman replies, tears streaming down her face as she watches Amelia try to resuscitate her husband.

"Do you have an EpiPen?" Dad asks her.

"No," she shakes her head. "I mean, in his luggage, but not..."

She starts to cry harder.

"Do you carry an EpiPen in your emergency kit?" Mom demands of the flight attendant.

He darts back behind a curtain.

"There's no peanuts in that," the woman says, pointing at the wrapper.

I look down at the tray in front of me, where Allegra had been sitting. The same empty wrapper sits there. I pick it up and read. It's expensive chocolate. And almost any kind of chocolate is manufactured in a factory that handles nuts.

"It probably came in contact with nuts at some point," Dad tells the woman.

The flight attendant returns with an emergency kit and Mom snatches it and digs through it, pulling out an EpiPen. She uncaps it and hands it to Amelia, who quickly plunges it into the man's thigh.

The woman screams.

Jeez, I think to myself. She can really rattle an eardrum.

Within a moment, the man gasps. His young wife is still crying.

"Oh my god," she cries. "Is he okay?"

"He will be," Amelia replies shortly. "As long as you don't feed him anymore nuts."

"But...there aren't any nuts in that. I looked!"

Amelia, clearly starting to feel the pregnancy hormones, looks at the woman with an irritated roll of her eyes.

"It's chocolate. Of course it's come in contact with nuts. And it says so on the wrapper," she replies.

She hands the empty EpiPen to the flight attendant and goes back to her seat.

She seats down and resumes reading her magazine, as if nothing happened.

Slowly, everyone else returns to their seat. Mom and Dad are last to return, after double-checking that the man is stable and breathing. Dad reclines the man's seat as far back as it will go and tells him to lie down for the rest of the trip.

"I'm so sorry, honey, I didn't know!" the wife says to her husband.

Clearly even he thinks she's a bit slow, because he rolls his eyes at her and continues breathing deeply, clutching the hand-held oxygen mask the flight attendant has given him.

When everyone has sat down and more or less resumed their reading, Dad sighs.

"Just your average flight, huh?" I look over at him.


	67. Chapter 67

Our resort in Castries, the Windjammer, is the same one that Addison has stayed at before. She promised us Amazing and we definitely got it. We have four villas, all beside each other. The Masons in one, Mom, Dad and me in another, Pete, Violet, Lucas in theirs, and Addison and Amelia in the last one.

While Mom and Dad go to dump their luggage in their room, with the assistance of a resort worker, I wander down the hall and find two rooms. One faces the courtyard out back, and the other faces the ocean. I make the obvious choice and wheel my luggage in.

'Wow', I think, staring out the enormous window. We've travelled around and seen a lot of beautiful places, but this is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.

I drop my bag and let go of my luggage handle, walking around the check out the big room. There's an en suite with a sunken bathtub and a huge shower. There are windows everywhere; even a big one beside the bathtub so you can look out while you're having a bath. The rooms, of course, are on the second floor so no one can just walk by and creep on you.

There are soft white towels and beautiful paintings. The sheets look brand new and are ultra soft, with smooth, light wood for a headboard. There's a big armoire made of the same wood standing in the corner, and off to the side of the bed, farthest away from the door is a balcony. There's a hammock that looks like it's probably the most comfortable place in the world.

"Pretty swanky, huh?" I hear.

I turn and smile at Mom.

"It's amazing."

"Addison really knows her resorts," she agrees.

We stand on the balcony and look out at the impossibly blue water. Mom wraps her arms around me, resting her chin on my shoulder.

"This is officially our new home," Dad comes onto the balcony.

Mom and I laugh, turning to see him. He's wearing one of his bright "vacation" shirts, his palms raised to the sky.

"Seriously, I'm inquiring about buying this place."

"Deal," I agree.

"You guys hungry? Everyone's getting settled and then we're meeting for some dinner."

"Yeah, I'm just gonna have a quick shower. I feel like airplane," I say.

"Is 'airplane' an adjective now?" he tilts his head.

"Ha ha," I reply, passing him. He snakes his arm around my neck and kisses my temple.

"I love you," he smiles.

"I love you, too," I reply.

* * *

><p>"You should put some of this on," Addison says, holding out a bottle of<p>

sunscreen.

"My own mother already attacked me with the spray-on variety," I reply, and

she sets the bottle down. "Y'know for someone so fair you manage a nice base

tan."

"Thank you," she replies, pleased, smearing suncreen on.

I look out at the water. Axel, Atticus, Allegra, Violet, Pete and Lucas are

all there, splashing around.

"You're not a big swimmer, are you?"

"Nah," I reply, watching them play.

"Just the ocean, or all water?"

"All of it. But the ocean especially. You have to respect the sea, Addison.

She's got a lot of messed up creatures living in her."

Addison laughs. "I don't mind the water. It's the salt I hate."

"That too," I agree, leaning back in my lounge chair.

Amelia arrives, draped in a sarong and wearing a floppy hat.

"Is this where the non-swimmers hang out?" she asks, setting her bag down on

the chair beside Addison.

"Team Land," I hold up a fist.

"I thought you loved swimming?" Addison looks over, setting a parenting book

down on her lap.

"That was on a swim team for school," Amelia laughs. "And I was 13."

"Wow," Addison resumes her reading. "I am old."

"Yeah, you're going to be like, 60 when your kid graduates," I point out.

"Fifty-seven," she retorts. "Fifty-six if he's a genius who gets pushed

ahead a grade. Which he probably will."

"It's not that great," I reply. "I'm always the youngest person in my

class."

"But you're known as a genius. And thus, are awesome."

"Loquacious," I reply, nodding.

"Exactly," Amelia laughs.

"So when are you due? Did you find out an estimate for the date?" I ask,

leaning on my arm so I'm facing them.

"End of March, early April," she smiles. "Give or take."

"Have you had any crazy cravings? Are you crazy hormonal?"

She shrugs. "I was, but after figuring everything out I feel kind of...I

dunno, relaxed? Having babies has never been on my bucket list. But knowing

that he's going to someone who will really love him makes me feel really at

peace with it all. Although I do cry at the weirdest things. Like that Sarah McLachlan commercial, with the dogs? Holy shit. Water works."

Addison smiles at her.

"He?" I say, tilting my head. "Are we sure it's a he?"

"No," she replies. "I just keep saying 'he'. I feel like it's a boy."

"What do you think?" I ask Addison.

She shrugs. "I think it's a perfect little baby that I will adore no matter

what gender it is."

"I bet it's a boy, too," I say, leaning back against the chair.

"Where are your parents?" Addison asks, looking back towards our villas.

"Don't ask," I reply.

"Ah," Amelia nods, with a smile.

"No. Don't be gross. They said they'd meet me here, so obviously they are

having a serious discussion about what kind of laptop to buy me for my

freshman year."

They laugh.

Violet comes up from the water, smiling with her camera.

"I got the cutest shots of Pete and Lucas. He's never even been in the ocean

before. And we live in LA. Isn't that sad?"

"No," I reply, as Addison says 'yes'.

"You have to respect the sea," Violet says to Addison, knowing my rule.

"So I've heard," Addison laughs.

Violet settles into a chair and leans back.

"Can we do this once a month?"

"I wish," Amelia replies, leaning back. Her swollen belly rises.

"Sometimes babies are born with a full set of teeth," I say.

Amelia chuckles, shaking her head, as Addison looks at me with

consternation.

"My baby is going to be born perfectly fine," she says.

"I know," I laugh. "I'm just sharing information."

"No more sharing," she replies, going back to her book.

"How's the water?" we hear Dad, and look back to see him and Mom arriving.

"Don't ask these three," Violet replies. "But it's perfect. Are you going

in?"

"Heck yes," Dad replies, setting his towel on a chair and pulling off his

shirt. "Coming, honey?"

"Naw, I'll stay with these ladies," Mom smiles.

He grins and leans forward to kiss her, for longer than any child should

have to witness.

I cover my face with my towel.


	68. Chapter 68

Later that day we all go for a dinner being held on the beach for the resort.

Afterwards, Axel and I go for a walk along the beach. As corny as it sounds, it's actually really nice. The sand is kind of cooled down, and I like the

way my feet sink a little with each step.

"So? Are you reformed on your opinions about tropical vacations?" he asks.

"What do you mean?

"You hate laying around doing nothing. But you liked it today," he smiles.

"I don't hate tropical vacations," I laugh. "I've just really loved Christmas in the mountains the last few years. But yes, this place is incredible and laying around is tolerable."

"I'm not gonna get you in the water, am I?"

"Oh fuck no," I shake my head. "You don't know what's out there."

He laughs. "Fish? Dolphins? Whales?"

"Caribbean reef sharks? Tiger sharks? BOX JELLYFISH?"

"There are no box jellyfish here," he laughs, tilting his head.

"That's exactly what they want you to think," I reply, dead serious.

He laughs, wrapping an arm around my neck.

"I love you," he says, laughing.

This is not new. Axel and I have been friends since elementary school, and have been really close since junior high. We love each other, and have said

it before. But this time, it feels different. The way he tightens his arm around my neck and kisses my head. The way he gets quiet after he says it,

and his gait slows until he stops.

"What?" I ask, looking up at him.

"I mean it," he says.

There are tiki torches set up for the outdoor dinner, and there's a full moon, so I can see his face perfectly, regardless of the fact that it's late.

"Mean what?" I look at him.

His bottle-green eyes bore into me, and I feel a fluttery feeling in my stomach. The same one I felt for him a few months ago, and chose to ignore.

"I love you, Kati. And I don't mean as my best friend, or someone that I've known forever. I love you in a fluttery-stomach, cloudy-headed, mind-numbingly crazy kind of way."

I swallow. He's taller than me; my eyes are level with his chin, so I have to look up through my lashes rather than crane my neck to see him this

closely. He looks at me, and then looks at my lips and then he's kissing me. He's kissing me like his breathing depends on it; like his lips were formed

perfectly in his DNA to settle seamlessly against mine. And any feelings of loving Axel being bad for our friendship disappear, because I can't ever

imagine having anyone else's lips pressed against mine; anyone else's long fingers weaved through my hair, holding the back of my head.

When we pull back slightly, he rests his forehead against mine.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he says quietly, and his breathing is slightly faster. I realize mine is too, and one hand is gripping his forearm, while the other is balled into a fist, holding his t-shirt.

"I...might have some...idea," I reply, staring into his incredibly green eyes, with their impossibly long lashes.

"And you made me wait? That was torture," he smiles, a breathy laugh, and presses his lips to my forehead.

"Well it wasn't a party for me either," I smile.

"I love you," he repeats, his palm against my cheek. "I can't remember a time when I haven't been in love with you. And this past year, with

everything that happened, and having to watch you go through this...unbearable pain...I felt like my chest was crushing, I just wanted to make everything disappear. And with Silas, I-"

I stand on the tips of my toes to reach up and kiss him, forcing him to shut up.

"No more," I say, as I pull away. "I just need to leave this year behind me."

"Deal," he says, and kisses me again, and the fluttery feeling in my stomach rises up and settles in my chest.


	69. Chapter 69

When we get back to the main beach where the dinner was held, we find that everyone is still there. The adults are all tipsy, except Amelia of course, and Lucas and Allegra are fast asleep in the laps of their fathers.

Mom sees us walking towards the group, Axel's arm comfortably around my shoulders, and she smiles. I can't help it; I smile back. I go towards the table, squeezing Axel's hand before I walk away from him.

"He told you," Mom smiles as I sit down.

I feel my face flush as I smile.

Mom's arm encircles me and she kisses my temple. "That's a smile I haven't seen in awhile."

Dad and Mr Mason are standing not far away, talking animatedly about some sports team. Addison looks over at Mom and me and then comes over, a grin on her face.

"Share," she says.

"Share what?" I say.

"Oh, please," she smiles. "Walk on the beach and you both come back looking like Christmas came early."

"Can you really use that analogy when Christmas is only four days away?" I tilt my head.

"I dunno," she frowns, considering. "Either way, it's written all over your face. Did he finally kiss you?"

She smiles, excited by the gossip. I blush again, laugh and shake my head.

"I...have to pee," I say, getting up.

"That's totally a yes," Addison says to Mom.

They smile at me in a sickening way as I head over to our villa. But she's right: I feel blissfully happy.

* * *

><p>The next morning after breakfast, we all take up our spots on the beach again, sprawled on beach loungers while some of us play in the water.<p>

"You wanna take a walk?" Axel rolls over and asks me.

"Define walk," I say. "I'm feeling extremely lazy."

He laughs. "I mean to the water, or down the beach. We can go get one of those slushy drinks."

"Okay," I say, setting my magazine on the end of the lounge chair.

"Have fun," Addison grins, and she and Amelia stare at me with those grins until I shake my head and walk away.

"I think every person here, except our dads, clued in to what happened last night," Axel says, linking his fingers with mine as we walk towards the water.

"Mom and Addison have some kind of radar," I agree.

I turn before we get too close to the water, and Axel doesn't try to push it so we just walk along the shore.

"I had a dream last night that my parents bought our villa," he says.

"Seriously? My Dad actually brought that up the first day. Said he was going to look into it," I laugh.

"I wouldn't argue," he says.

We walk away from the busier area, towards a rocky area that people swim around. We talk about movies, and I realize I've missed a lot of good ones over the past few months, since I was in Alabama and wasn't really connected to the outside world.

When we reach the rocky area, he steps towards the smooth rock-path.

"Uh, no," I say, stopping.

"Come on," he grins. "I won't let you fall."

"Your strength is minute when compared to hers," I jerk my thumb towards the ocean.

"What about facing your fears?" he says.

"Certain fears are just logical realizations," I reply, unwilling to budge as his arm stays stretched towards me so he can grip my hand.

He laughs, and we hear a scream.

It's chilling, not a shriek of fun or exhilaration. Our heads snap towards the water where two people are swimming at the edge of the rocks.

"Help!" the girl screams.

My eyes dart around her and my stomach churns. Unless my eyes are playing a cruel joke, I just saw a fin disappear beneath the water.

"Oh shit," Axel breathes.

"Did you...did I see..."

"Yeah," he says, his grip on my hand tightening. He looks around for someone to call to for help. But our group is far behind us; we are past the commercial beach area.

The girl keeps screaming, but she's coming towards the shore. And she's struggling to drag something behind her. I swallow, feeling waves of fear smash inside my stomach.

"Axel," I say, and he snaps his head back towards the water.

The girl is dragging a person. And the water around them is blood red.


	70. Chapter 70

"Oh my god," I breathe, and instinctively move towards her.

She's sobbing so hard she can barely stand, but she still tries to haul the person behind her. She falls as she reaches the shallowest water. When I reach her, my stomach recoils. She's dragging a guy, and he is missing a sickening amount of flesh from just above his knee to his upper thigh. The flesh is torn, angry and red, and he's bleeding like crazy. I quickly untie my sarong and tie it tightly around his upper thigh, making a tourniquet.

"Go get my parents," I tell Axel firmly. He hesitates, not wanting to leave me. "Axel!"

He takes off running, and the girl continues to sob hysterically.

I try to help her get the guy to the sand, out of the water. Even being calf-deep in the water is making my heart stutter with fear, especially since there is obviously a reef shark around. They're the most common around the Caribbean, I know that, and judging from the guy, he's hungry.

My fear only lessens slightly when I get out of the water. There's a thick, furious trail of blood as we drag the guy.

"It'll be okay," I try to tell the girl. But she's vomiting in the sand nearby, in between her racking sobs.

I feel for a pulse, and I'm actually a little surprised to find one. But it's weak; barely there. I press a beat with my palm of my hand into his chest, unsure of what else I can do. I look up and see Axel and others racing towards us.

I'm freaking out, breathing rapidly; anxious for my parents to arrive and fix this.

"Kati! What happened?" Dad demands, reaching me and falling to his knees.

"I don't know," I say shakily. "She just screamed and started dragging him from the water."

"She?"

I point behind the group, to where the girl is still retching and sobbing. Violet goes to her and we all turn back to the guy. He's been unconscious this entire time.

"Dad?" I say, asking a million questions with one word.

"It's okay, honey," he tries to be comforting, while Pete, Mom and he work furiously to assess the situation.

Addison stands nearby, holding Lucas with one hand blocking his view; fear and shock all over her face.

I can't stop staring at the guy's body. The gaping wound is surrounded by jagged marks. Teeth, I think to myself. I don't understand how he could even survive this. His femoral artery had to have been severed. Half of the back of his thigh is just gone. I've never seen this kind of thing up close. I'm staring at veins and flesh and fat and arteries, in their most gruesome form.

Pete takes off back down the beach to get more help. They need a board to move him, and an ambulance.

"He's still breathing, but barely," Mom says, pulling his eyelids up to check his pupils.

I don't know how much blood he's lost, but judging by the pallor of his skin, it's too much. I swallow, feeling hollow and terrified. I realize Axel is beside me, gripping my hand tightly; his own chest rising and falling quickly.

Down the beach, an ambulance races towards us on the sand. We move back when it stops and paramedics start spilling out, demanding room and answers. Mom and Dad explains that they are doctors; give them what little information they can.

He is quickly strapped onto a board and rushed into the ambulance, and Violet helps the girl get in, too. It takes off again, leaving all of us standing there, stunned. I can't stop staring at the sand and the water, still brilliantly red. I've never seen so much blood. I've never seen the inside of someone's mangled body.

Mom comes over and talks to me, making sure I'm okay.

I exhale deeply, nod at her, feeling dazed.

"Can this vacation take a hard left into Relaxation and leave the Crazy behind?" I look at her.

"I know what you mean, sugar," she sighs, turning to walk down the beach with everyone else.

"That was...crazy," Axel shakes his head.

"I've never seen anything like that before," Addison says.

"I'd prefer not to again," I add.

"Agreed," Addison nods.

* * *

><p>I go lay down in my room afterwards, trying to relax a little. I think everyone needs a little down time, which is ironic because that's what this vacation was supposed to be for.<p>

We meet for dinner later, after everyone has napped and calmed down. Thankfully, we have two kids with us, and Allegra and Lucas are great at taking the attention away from the crazy morning with their fun-loving attitudes.

By the time Christmas morning arrives, I'm relieved to have actually had time to relax and lie on the beach and literally do nothing for hours on end. Still, the first thing I think of when I wake up on the morning of the 25th, is Jamie. Not having her with me for Christmas is just another painful First that I have to climb over.

Typically, we'd be the first ones up. We were usually in Aspen, on a snowboarding trip, so we'd wake up as soon as the lifts were running and go boarding before our parents were even up. Sometimes George didn't even come, he was always working so much. Jamie was an assumed member of the Freedman family. I lie there, with sun's warm rays draped across my face, remembering last Christmas.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

I look over and see Mom in my doorway.

"Merry Christmas," I smile, sitting up.

She comes over to the bed with her hands behind her back.

"I have a present for you," she says, sitting beside me.

"There are many presents, for all of us, out there," I gesture towards the great room down the hall.

She smiles, giving me a look, before holding out a small box.

Dad appears, holding a cup of coffee and looking lazy and well-rested.

"Hey, wait," he says, coming to sit on my other side.

"Is it a new laptop for Berkeley?" I ask. I'm kidding; the box is clearly a jewelry box.

"Close," Dad says.

"That globe game from Toys 'R Us that Allegra has?"

"Almost," he squints, as though these are hints.

I laugh. "Liar."

I slowly tear off the snowflake wrapping paper and find a box. My favourite shade of turquoise. I look over at Mom, genuine surprise on my face. It's Tiffany's.

"Go on," she says, nodding towards the box.

I lift open the small box and find a locket. It's white gold, with small diamonds, and it's beautiful. It's not typical or boring. It's perfect.

"You guys," I say, taking it out of the box.

"Open it," Dad says quietly.

I slip a thumbnail in the slight crack of the heart and click open the locket. Inside are two pictures, each so small; maybe half an inch tall. One is Jamie, just by herself. She looks exactly how I always imagine her. Happy, smiling and beautiful. It makes my eyes sting. The other picture, in the left-hand side, is one of both us.

"Thank you," I look up at them. I hug Mom and then Dad, and they squeeze tightly, the way they do when I'm sad, as though if they squeeze tightly enough, all of the pain will just seep out of me.

"You're welcome," Dad whispers into my hair.

Mom takes the locket and fastens it around my neck for me.

"Perfect," she smiles, her eyes a little glassy.

We hear a knock from downstairs.

"And there's the cavalry," Dad grins.

He kisses my cheek and jumps up to go answer the door.

We all gather in our villa, around the Christmas tree provided and decorated by the resort, and exchange gifts. It's loud, with everyone laughing and thanking each other for gifts. I realize as I sit there staring at everybody that for the first time since I lost Jamie, I actually feel whole again. Like all of these people gathered in this room with me have helped me, over the past year, slowly piece myself back together again. Where Jamie lives, a tenant of my heart, is a fissure. A small crack in who I am, that would go by unnoticed by almost everybody. And only these people know about it...but they don't treat me any differently for the blemish


	71. Chapter 71

"You still haven't answered me," he says.

I turn my head to see Axel staring at me. I exhale, knowing exactly what he means, and I smile, shaking my head.

"Yes I did," I reply, zipping my sweater up as we walk along Ocean Avenue near the practice.

It's January now, and sweater weather is something I love.

"Baby, come on," he groans, pulling me towards him and wrapping his arm around me. "I need you there."

I drink a mouthful of Slurpee.

"How can you drink that? It's winter," he says, laughing quietly.

"It's delicious," I reply, giving him a small smile.

"Naw, stay on topic here. Prom."

"Axel," I sigh.

He kisses my temple, holding his lips there for a moment longer.

"Consider it a birthday present?"

"Your birthday's in the summer," I laugh.

"Girl, you drive me crazy," he breathes into my ear.

We walk, turning the corner towards the practice, where I'm supposed to meet Mom, and where Axel left his car while we went for lunch.

"You really think you can turn up the chance to go shopping, buy a dress...get all done up?"

"Ah, nice," I nod. "Play upon my weaknesses."

"Whatever it takes," he grins.

I inhale, exhale loudly. "When?"

"May 4th."

I stare at him.

"Are you serious?"

"What?"

"May the fourth?"

"Yes..."

He stares at me, and then clues in to the Star Wars joke, laughing. "Wow. Only you."

I shrug. "Nah. Everyone knows that."

"Well you are the sexiest nerd ever," he grins.

We reach the front doors of the building and he turns me to face him, pushing hair behind my ear.

"I can't imagine being there without you," he says quietly.

"I know," I agree softly.

After a few moments, I stop chewing my bottom lip.

"Alright."

"Yeah?" he smiles so big, I can't help but smile back.

"Yeah."

"Aw, Kati," he hugs me, tightly; fitting me into his arms perfectly.

When he pulls back, he looks at me, so happy.

"I love you," he says, smiling.

"I love you, too." I say.

"Talk to you later?"

I nod. "I have a few exams this afternoon. I'll text you when the Warden releases me."

He smiles, kisses me and heads towards his car.

I go upstairs, sharing the elevator with a frazzled woman trying to handle four kids, all under the age of five, it seems.

"Flint, leave Wing alone. She's not feeling well," she demands of the oldest.

I refrain from jolting my head around to stare. Wing? Seriously?

"Mommy, Sunder smells like diapers," Wing, the only girl, complains.

Before I can find out what the fourth and youngest boy is named, the doors open and I step out before the screams of Wing trying to escape her brother can puncture my eardrums.

"How was lunch?" Addison grins, winking at me.

I grin, shaking my head at her, as I go to Mom's office.

"Hey, baby," she smiles, looking up from her computer. "How was lunch?"

"Good," I reply, tossing my empty Slurpee cup in the trash.

"Please tell me your lunch consisted of something more than a Slurpee the size of a newborn," she eyes me.

"Mother," I say, feigning a surprised look. "Of course...I also ate an entire box of Milk Duds."

She stifles a smile and I grin and flop down onto the couch.

She comes over and holds out her hand and a bottle of water. Vitamins.

I take them and when I hand back the water bottle she hands me an exam.

"History," she says. "You'll have about an hour."

She smiles and touches my head, before heading for the door.

"I'm going to grab some lunch with your daddy. Addison and Violet are here if you need them. And Amelia. I think."

I nod and settle on the floor, with my test on the coffee table in front of me.

"Love you," she calls, smiling as she heads out.

A few minutes later, Amelia knocks.

"Hey, honey," she smiles. "Where's your mom?"

"Lunch," I reply, wiggling my pen in my fingers.

"What are you working on? You want me to help you cheat?" she asks, smiling conspiratorially, coming to sit on the couch in front of me.

"History," I reply. "Holocaust."

Before she even fully sits down, she's getting back up again. "Aaand, that's where I leave."

"Your loss," I call after her. "I'm in the middle of 1941. Shit is getting real."

"I'll get over it," she waves a hand as she leaves.

* * *

><p>"All done?" Mom asks, coming back into her office.<p>

"I was done half an hour ago," I reply, tapping on my laptop to complete my Amazon order. "I'm ordering some light reading."

She comes to sit beside me, looking at the screen.

"_Mudbound, The Color Purple, One Hundred Years of Solitude, The Great Gatsby _and _Anna Karenina_," she reads.

She looks at me and I look back, straight-faced.

"You're right," she gets up, kissing my forehead and grabbing my test. "That is light. For you."

She smiles and takes the exam to her desk as Amelia walks in.

"Oh good, you're back," she says.

She comes in towards Mom's desk, sitting in one of the chairs.

"I have a patient, 25 years old, brain tumor and he's an addict. Kid's in pretty rough shape and I told him I knew of all the best meetings. You think you could write down a few of those ones we used to go to?"

"Of course," Mom agrees, pulling a colored square of paper from a pile and starting to scrawl across it. "What's his prognosis?"

"Cake walk," Amelia waves a hand dismissively. "I can be in and out of there within three hours, easy."

"Cocky," Mom grins.

"Confident," Amelia counters.

"Bored," I announce, leaning back against the couch.

"Well I'm finished for the day. I suppose we should go to the mall," Mom says, eying my slyly.

"Okay," I reply.

"Should probably start looking at prom dresses," she adds, her sly look making sense.

"Oh, are you kidding me? Did he already call you?" I tilt my head.

"Jessica did," Mom laughs. "Axel called her as soon as you finally agreed."

"He called his mother as soon as his girlfriend agreed to go to prom?" Amelia sings. "Oh my god, that is too adorable."

I roll my eyes, settling back into the couch.

"We can go another day. Like, May third," I say.

"Are you serious?" Amelia stares at me. She turns to Mom. "Is she serious?"

"Rarely," Mom replies drily.

"You do not prolong prom shopping," Amelia declares.

"Prom shopping?" Addison pops her head in, a huge smile on her face. "Are we going prom shopping?"

"Oh my god," I breathe, rubbing my forehead.

"Yes," Amelia answers her. "Let's go! It'll be fun!"

Mom looks at me, questioning. I stare back, and then glance at Amelia and Addison. Both of them have anticipatory looks on their faces; huge smiles and wide eyes. Even Mom looks excited by the prospect.

"Fine," I breathe, eventually.

"Yay!" Addison cries, as Amelia echoes her. "Let me put these charts away and I'll meet you guys back here."

She hurries off with Amelia.

Mom smiles at me.

"This is not going to be anywhere near as bad as you're thinking," she says, reading me like a book. "I understand that this past year at Chadwick was full of bad memories, but try to think about the three before that. And about everything you love about it."

I nod after a moment, sighing.

"Trust me, baby," she sits beside me, touching my head.

She looks at me, worried and being strong for me all at once.

"I do," I say, and give her a small smile.


	72. Chapter 72

"This one, too," Addison says, pushing another dress into the girl's arms.

Roxanne, the girl who works at Bella, the dress store, has about 40 dresses jammed in her arms. Between Mom, Addison and Amelia, I haven't had a chance to add one to the pile.

"You're going to smother her," I say, watching as Roxanne heads towards the changing rooms.

"She's fine," Amelia waves a hand, trying to see every dress around her, her swollen belly rising ahead of her.

Mom ushers me to the changing rooms and I go in the one that Roxanne gestures towards.

"Let me see before you decide it's horrible," Mom calls.

I wave a hand lazily, signalling that I hear her.

"Sorry," I say to Roxanne.

"It's okay," she laughs. "You might be one of two, out of probably 300 girls I've seen this month, who isn't pant-shitting excited about shopping for a prom dress."

"There are few things in life that could get me 'pant-shitting' excited," I reply drily.

"You are a rare breed," she laughs, setting five dresses on hangers around my changing room. "Enjoy."

She grins and leaves.

"Enjoy," I mutter, taking off my jacket and hanging it up. I undress and take the first dress. It's pink, which I why I immediately refused it. But Amelia pressed me, telling me that some dresses look 100-times better on than they do on the hanger.

I pull it on and zip up the side. I hate it.

I fling back the curtain and face Mom, Addison and Amelia, all sitting feet away from me, waiting eagerly.

"I love it," Amelia declares.

"Mmm," Addison mumbles, her lips tight as she chews them.

"No," Mom shakes her head.

"No?" Amelia stares.

"No," Mom repeats. "She hates it. Look at her face!"

"She does hate it," Addison agrees, still chewing her lip.

"She's right here," I say. "She doesn't need you to talk about her in the second."

"Next one," Addison waves a hand encouragingly.

I turn and go back into the changing room. I hang up the pink dress and stick my arm out to hang it on the hook just outside the room.

"Tell Roxanne this is the Burn pile," I call out.

I grab the next dress. Charcoal, strapless. It's boring, except for the back, which has several straps. It gets good reviews, so we put it in the Maybe pile. I try on a red dress that's too long for my usual style; a black one that's cute, but boring; a coral one that Addison grabbed just for the shock value of it. It's so violently pink that it almost hurts to look at.

"I'm an eye-sore," I say, staring at the them.

Addison can't stifle a laugh, and Mom rolls her eyes at her, smiling.

"You are beautiful," she replies. "That dress, is not."

I add it to the Burn pile.

I try on a yellow dress, and love it; a purple dress that I love for its color, but hate everything else. There's a white one with crisscrossed straps, but the sequins turn me off from it.

It feels like we've been here for hours. Every time I go out, the three of them ooh and aah and fuss over me. It's exhausting. When I'm trying on the 400th dress, my phone rings. It's Dad.

"Hey, honey," he says happily. "How's the dress shopping?"

"Help me," I reply.

He laughs. "A little too much Woman in there?"

"Just a bit," I reply. "How does everyone know I agreed to prom when it only happened five minutes ago?"

"Axel called his mom, she called yours, and she told me."

"Faster than salacious gossip," I say, putting the most recent reject-dress on a hanger.

"So what's the verdict so far?"

"Nothing, Dad. I've never been so annoyed by a shopping trip," I say honestly.

"Baby, you have more talents than I can count. And shopping just happens to be one of them. Besides, you look gorgeous in everything. Whichever dress you pick is going to look incredible."

I can't help but smile.

"Thanks Dad," I say.

"Just relax. Have fun and you'll find the perfect dress."

Right when he says it I pick up an orange dress and move the hanger, already hating it. Behind it is a dress I don't even remember seeing. I don't know who picked it out, but something tells me it was Mom. It's green, vibrant and deep at the same time. Like the most incredible beginning-of-spring grass. It has one shoulder strap, and the other side is strapless. There's a little belt around the waist, and it's long. Longer than I usually like; it reaches the floor. But somehow, I love it. Actually love it.

"Yeah," I say into the phone, smiling. "Thanks Dad."

"I'll see you later, sweetheart. I love you."

"Love you too," I say, and hang up.

I pick up the dress and turn it around. The back makes me fall even more in love with it. The side with the shoulder strap comes down diagonally across the back, and the sheer fabric beneath that part is woven and swirled in an intricate design. It's subtle, not overpowering. It's beautiful.

I smile, realizing that the green in the dress matches the green of Axel's eyes.

"Are you stuck? In a dress? Should we come in there?" Addison calls, being embarrassing on purpose.

"Only if you want the reward for Worst Aunt," I call back.

"Nice," she replies.

I slip the dress on, and it fits perfectly. I smile, without even having seen my reflection yet. There are no mirrors in the changing room so I pull back the curtain and all three of them stare in silence.

"Oh, Kati," Mom finally says, after I've come out of the room and turned towards the three-paneled mirror. "You look amazing."

"You look gorgeous," Amelia adds.

"Damn," Addison says, smiling. "Honey, you look perfect."

I examine every angle of the dress, and it is perfect. It grazes the floor just enough that I could wear heels.

"Baby," Mom says, and I look up at her. I smile, which makes her smile happily. "That's the one."

I nod, unable to stop smiling, imagining Axel's face when he sees it. Sees me.

"You look incredible, baby girl," she says.

I feel myself blush.

We hear a sniffle and all look over simultaneously to see Amelia, tears streaming down her face.

"Honey," Addison says, concerned, reaching out a hand to rub her back.

"I'm fine," Amelia sobs. "Sorry. She just looks so beautiful! Y'know? Like, have you ever seen anyone look so beautiful? I feel like she's just growing up so fast, and...and..."

"Oh, honey," Addison rubs her back.

"I'm just so pregnant!" Amelia cries, sobbing more.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"Can we please buy the dress?" she holds out a hand while the other one holds a tissue to her face.

"Yes," Mom laughs. "We can buy the dress."

Addison keeps rubbing Amelia's back, trying to comfort her, but both she and Mom are stifling laughter, too. But thankfully Amelia doesn't notice.

"Shoes!" she suddenly cries out.

Several nearby shoppers look over and Addison waves them along, gesturing with her hands that Amelia is both pregnant and crazy.

"We have to find her the perfect shoes!" she finishes.

"Alright, Prego," Addison nods. "We'll get the shoes."

And while Amelia continues to dry her tears and Addison rubs her back, I catch Mom's wink for me and go back into the changing room to get dressed.

* * *

><p>The perfect shoes turn out to be nude-colored wedge sandals. Miles sells them to us, after demanding to see the dress and spending over half an hour making me try on different pairs of heels.<p>

"What happens when I need a wedding dress?" I ask Addison, while Amelia and Mom are debating with Miles over pregnancy shoes.

"Wonderful, terrible things," Addison replies.

I almost shudder, and by the time we leave the store, we're all hungry.

"I need to eat," Addison announces.

"Oh my god, me too," Amelia agrees. "I want sushi."

"Well I want my child to not be developmentally challenged due to mercury poisoning, so...how about Italian?" Addison replies.

"Okay, how much sushi would you actually have to eat for it to be hazardous to your fetus?" I ask, knowing that Addison is overreacting.

"One can never know," Addison replies creepily.

"Your mom ate sushi, didn't she," I say, straight-faced.

Addison stares, but behind her Amelia nods seriously, gesturing large amounts with her hands.

"You WASPS," I say, shaking my head.

When Addison's jaw drops, shocked, I laugh, giving up my serious demeanor. She tickles my ribs.

"You are so messed up," she laughs.

We leave the mall and start driving, deciding on a favorite Mexican place instead.

We watch Amelia eat her weight in guacamole and do our fair share of damage to an array of delicious entrees before heading back to the practice so Addison and Amelia can get their cars.

* * *

><p>When we get home, Dad looks up from the couch.<p>

"Let's see it!" he says, smiling.

Mom shrugs off her jacket and goes to sit beside him, kissing him.

I start to pull the dress out but Dad stops me.

"No, no! Put it on. I want to see," he says.

I tilt my head, but Mom just nods. "Go on, then."

So I go upstairs, with Nigel bustling excitedly at my feet.

"Can you believe this?" I ask him. "Nevermind. You don't understand clothes. The worst we make you do is stand there after a particularly rigorous mud bath."

I grab a strapless bra from my armoire and pull the dress on. I love how it fits so seamlessly, as though it was made for me. I go back downstairs and I can't help but smile at Dad's face. I blush at Mom's look of pure pride.

"Kati, you look amazing," Dad smiles.

"Thanks," I say quietly, chewing my lip.

"Y'know what, maybe I was wrong. About this prom thing," he says, chewing his thumb.

Mom looks at him, confused.

"Maybe you should wear, y'know...sweatpants or something."

Mom laughs, closing her eyes as she shakes her head, and I can't help but chuckle.

"Right, Dad," I say, turning to go back upstairs. "I'll show up in some Monrow sweats and make a huge fashion statement in prom wear."

"Excellent," he grins, holding out his hands. "We agree then."

I go up the stairs, hearing Mom laugh quietly.

"No? Are we not all on the same page then?"

"You're on a page all your own, baby," Mom replies. "But we love you for it.


	73. Chapter 73

"You're worse than a girl with salacious gossip," I shake my head slowly.

From the couch, Axel grins, waiting for me to come sit with him.

"Why, because I was excited?"

"No, because you managed to get word of my agreeing to go to prom, to everyone in my family, within 30 seconds," I laugh, falling onto the cushion beside him.

"It's big news," he says, kissing my temple.

"They made me parade around in about 300 dresses," I raise an eyebrow. "And then Amelia's hormones went ballistic and she started sobbing in the middle of the store."

He laughs, holding a fist to his mouth.

"It's not funny," I say, straight-faced. "It felt like a really fucked up episode of Say Yes to the Dress."

He keeps laughing, so I grab a throw pillow and throw it at his face. He just shields himself, laughing, and then pulls me over when I start to get up. He kisses me, slowly, and I end up smiling.

"Let's see the end result, then," he smiles.

"The dress?"

He nods.

"Ah, I don't think so," I wave him off. "Now you'll have to wait."

"Until prom?"

"Yeah. Until prom," I nod.

"That's like...almost four months!"

I smile and then toss another pillow at his face.

* * *

><p>I'm late for my French exam with Mom. I know she's just eyeballing her watch, waiting for me at the practice, but this morning has been a complete mess. I woke up with a headache (a common thing since the accidents), cut my leg shaving, stepped on Nigel's paw and now I'm stuck in traffic because some genius driving on Ocean thought it would be a good idea to not tie down some furniture he was moving with his truck. And I promised Dad I'd bring him a sandwich from his favorite deli.<p>

Finally moving forward along the street, I zip into the practice's parking lot. It'll be faster for me to run over to the deli, rather than drive. I jog down the street, slowly down when my phone goes off. It's Mom, wondering where I am. As I'm walking and texting, I bump into someone. Maybe she bumped into me, but that's the furthest thing from my mind, because I'm standing face-to-face with Mrs. Mitchell. Silas' mother.

As though she were planning on apologizing, her pleasant face sinks into a look of loathing and discomfort as she recognizes me. I don't even know what to say, or do. I stare at her and a rock forms in my stomach, jagged and heavy.

"Well," she begins. "Back from your little vacation, I see."

I raise an eyebrow. "Vacation. Yeah. After nearly being killed by your son I just needed to keep the party going and head out on an exhilarating trip."

"My son did not-"

"Careful how you finish that," I say steadily. "Make sure it's based on where he's sitting right now."

I expect to see only hate in her eyes, because she's been staring at me with it this entire time. But I'm surprised to see the misery pooling in the eerie grey color of her eyes. She clenches her jaw and tightens her grip on the strap of her bag.

"You ruined his life," she bites.

"No I didn't," I tilt my head. "He took care of that all on his own."

I turn and walk back towards the practice. My heart has not stopped pounding and I can feel blood pulsing loudly in my ears. I feel like I'm vibrating. How I managed to keep it together under the heat of her glare is beyond me, but I keep moving. My breathing speeds up and I hurry to get to the practice; to somewhere safe.

As soon as the elevator doors open I head straight for the bathroom. I hear Norah say hello, and get a quick glance of Mom, her face set into unimpressed lines, but I keep moving. Inside the bathroom I fall against the wall and sink to the floor, the adrenaline coursing through my blood overpowering me, forcing me down. The fear and anger bubble in my chest and burst from my eyes, the tears hot and constant. Once I start, I can't stop. I bury my face in my hands as the door opens.

"Kati, baby, what is it?" Mom asks, any anger at my lateness gone and replaced by worry as she bends down.

But I can't breathe because I'm crying and trying not to cry all at once. I can't control the surge of emotion, so I just shake my head, struggling to calm myself down.

"Baby," she says, pulling me into her arms as we sit on the floor. "You're scaring me. What happened?"

I hold my head in both hands, telling myself, angrily, to calm down. Slowly, with Mom's arms around me and her palm holding my head to her chest, I get my breathing a few notches down from Crazy.

"Charlotte?" I hear Addison, as the door opens and closes. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Mom shrugs and I attempt deeper breaths. Addison bends down pushing tear-soaked hair from my face.

"Kati, honey, what is it?"

I swallow hard, rubbing the heels of my hands over my swollen eyes.

"I saw..." I don't want to say his name, knowing it will taste like pennies in my mouth. "Silas' mom."

Mom's arms twitch slightly around me.

"What did she say to you?" she demands, tipping my chin up so she can see my face.

I shake my head, swallowing hard.

"I swear to god, I will hunt her down," Mom mutters.

"She thinks I ruined Silas' life," I finally say it, quietly.

Both of their faces freeze into stony, angry looks.

"You did absolutely nothing wrong," Mom says forcefully. "Don't for a second-"

"I know, Mom," I exhale, running a hand through my hair. "I just...wasn't prepared to see her. Or...hear her."

"That bitch needs to give her head a shake," Addison mutters. "Or have it shaken for her."

"She's miserable," I say, shaking my head. "She hates me, and blames me, but mostly I just think she's...beyond miserable."

"Do not make excuses for her," Mom says, tucking hair behind my ear. "How dare she even think of speaking to you. Of having anything to say besides an apology for raising such a despicable excuse for a human being."

I rest my head in my hands, finally calmed down and breathing normally.

"Come on, sugar," Mom says, moving to stand us both up.

I hoist my bag back up on my shoulder, wiping at my wet face. I feel people staring-Violet and Jake and Sam-as we make our way to Mom's office. Addison closes the blinds and I drop my bag onto the couch. Mom hands me a Kleenex, staring at me with worry.

"I'm fine," I say, taking the tissue.

"I know what that word-"

"Then I'm okay," I cut her off, and run a hand through my hair. "She just caught me off guard."

Dad bursts into the room.

"What happened?" he demands, fear on his face as he hurries towards me.

"Nothing," I say, exhaling. "I'm f-...I'm okay."

He hugs me, asking again but softer, "What happened?"

But I don't reply, I just bury myself in his arms, the comfort of it being what I need.

"Silas' mother ran into her on the street," Mom replies, her voice sharp around the edges.

I can't see their faces, but I'm sure they're having one of their silent conversations. I let go of Dad and see all three of them looking at me, sorry and angry. I hate it.

"I'm going to the kitchen," I say, scratching my scalp. "I just need a water. And then I can do that test."

I head for the door and Addison follows, slipping an arm around my shoulders.

"Hey," she says softly.

"I'm okay," I say, as we get to the kitchen.

"I know," she replies, getting two bottles of water from the fridge and handing me one. "But I'll still flatten her out."

I smile, and that seems to satisfy her.

"It was just really...crazy," I shake my head, sitting at the table.

"Understandably," she agrees. "Confrontation sucks enough without it being with the depressed mother of a rapist."

"Jeez," I say, surprised by the bite of her voice.

She shrugs.

I inhale deeply and slowly let it out. "Alright...I have to go do that test."

"I'm sure you could talk the teacher into moving it to tomorrow," she raises her eyebrows.

"No," I sigh. "I want to write it. Gives me something else to think about."

She smiles and runs a hand over my hair. "Bonne chance," she says, teasing me.

"Nice," I nod, returning the small smile.

* * *

><p>The exam does the trick, but only lasts about an hour. Afterwards, I burrow into the couch in Mom's office with Les Miserables, trying to focus on something else. When my phone rings, I'm surprised to see that two hours have already passed.<p>

"Hey," I say, answering Axel's call.

"Hey beautiful, how's your day?"

I can't help but smile. "Alright. How's yours?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Girl, I've known you too long to not know when you're not alright," he replies matter-of-factly.

I exhale, knowing he's going to flip when he hears.

"You're makin' me nervous, K," he says.

"I ran into Mrs Mitchell today," I finally say.

I can feel the tension through the phone. Even now, Axel gets agitated about Silas.

"What did she do to you," he says stonily.

"Nothing, she didn't-"

"Baby, please don't sugar-coat this for me," he breathes.

I chew my lip. "She told me I ruined Silas' life. And then she shot death rays at me with her corpse-colored eyes. Have you ever noticed what a weird color they are?"

"Don't joke," he says quietly. "Not about this."

"No, don't let this be a rain cloud. It happened, it sucked, and I'm still alive to talk about it," I reply. "We're not spending any more time stewing about...him."

He sighs, and I can picture him, angry and sad.

"Alright," he says after a moment. "Look, I'm sorry. It's good you can still joke when something sucks. I just..."

"I know," I say, anticipating exactly what he'll say; about Silas and that night and how much he hates himself for it, still. "I'm just dropping it. I'm done with it."

"I ever told you how strong you are? Put me to shame, girl," he gives a breathy laugh.

"Yeah. I work out," I reply, smiling when I hear his laugh.

"Where are you at right now?"

"Still at the practice. Had an exam today."

"Let's go out. Max is having a party tonight."

"Of course she is," I smile. "Gotta break in the new mansion, I guess."

"Yeah, her mama hit the jackpot with that guy," Axel laughs.

"What time do you wanna go?" I look up at the clock. Almost 4:00.

"I dunno, we got time. Let me take you for dinner first."

"Dinner..."

"You can pick," he says, amused.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Prairie oysters and haggis?"

"...I think I know what the first one is, but I don't want to guess."

"Haggis it is. I'll be ready by 8:00," I smile.


	74. Chapter 74

I wasn't actually serious about the haggis. I've heard it's delicious, but if I'm going to eat a sheep's stomach, I'm going to eat it in Scotland, where they know what they're up to. We go to our favorite mediterranean grill and sit on the patio, because Atticus' best friend works the bar on the patio and hooks us up with drinks, despite our lack of IDs. In our case, Axel gets drinks and I stick to non-alcoholic.

"One day you're going to get busted," I say, picking a loose edamame bean from the bowl.

"Nah. Look at me? Look good, dress good, got the most beautiful girl. I'm invincible."

I laugh. "Wow, that's quite the sense of arrogance, Tom Cruise."

"Oh that's cold," he tilts his head.

"Truth hurts," I shrug.

He grabs me, trying to tickle me and kisses me. "You're lucky you're so amazing."

"You are," I reply, hating the blush I feel up my neck.

My phone buzzes and it's a text from Max, wondering where we are.

"Max?" Axel asks, leaning back in his chair.

"Yeah. Demanding answers."

"It's 9:00," he laughs.

"Yeah and I bet she and Megan and Jenelle have been drinking since 6:00. Which makes us..."

"Late," he finishes.

"Exactly."

"Ah well," he shrugs. "They can wait. You want dessert?"

"Nah, I think I'm good," I sigh, replying to Max's message.

"They have chocolate lava cake," he sings, raising his eyebrows.

I slowly move my eyes to meet his. He just smiles.

"Fine," I say, because I can never say no to it, even when I'm bursting-at-the-seams full.

* * *

><p>Apparently we are really late, because I think we're the last people to arrive. The house is packed, with people spilling out into the backyard, splashing in the pool and playing Beersbie and Battle Shots on the lawn. As expected, there are no freshmen or sophomores at this party. Max has a strict rule against it, and against them. I love her, but she can be a bit Mean Girls with the grades below us. Not Regina-mean. More like Cady-mean, once she becomes popular.<p>

We make our way through the house, saying hey to people, looking for Max.

"Oh my god, Kati," someone whines, and I turn to find an unfamiliar blonde who has the irritatingly nasal voice of a Kardashian.

"How ARE you?"

"Uh, fantastic, Girl-I've-Never-Talked-To-Before. How are you?"

"So. Good. I'm pretty sure I'm about to get signed to Ford, so..." she nods, stroking her own hair.

"Congratulations," I nod, wishing Axel would pull us away.

"Yeah, it's a really great opportunity for me. What about you? Did you like, graduate? Or are you taking a year off or something? I like, never see you, ever since Silas went all Mark Wahlberg-Fear on you."

Axel stiffens and I offer her a dead smile.

"Yeah, y'know I just decided that high school wasn't for me, so...I dunno. Maybe I'll just start playing my guitar on the street, y'know?"

"Oh my god," her eyes widen. "You could totally be the next, like, Miley Cyrus."

"Let's hope not," I smile, and give a slight wave before squeezing Axel's hand so he walks, pulling me forward.

He chuckles, trying to hide it. I hit his arm.

"Thanks a lot, Mason."

But he just laughs. "I couldn't resist. Watching the two of you was like watching a cat eye up a cornered mouse."

"Luckily I'm not out for blood," I smirk, and turn to keep walking.

We find Max outside by the wet bar. She and Megan and Jenelle are all clearly sauced up.

When she sees us she cries out my name, hurrying over to hug me.

"Where were you guys?" she frowns, her pupils enormous.

"Dinner. What did you take?" I lean forward a bit, to see her eyes better.

She just laughs, and Megan and Jenelle follow suit. I look at Axel, who raises an eyebrow.

"Max," I tilt my head.

"MDMA," she smiles, hugging me again. "Honestly, I have never felt so amazing."

"Said every person ever, before their impending hangover," I say.

"Kati, it's amazing. You have to try it," she stares.

"Umm..." I sigh. "No."

I smile and she just laughs.

We walk around and find Chase and a few other people, and start a game of Beersbie.

As graduation gets closer, it seems like everyone is getting a little more ballsy. Girls who weren't usually party-goers now show up with boobs falling out of their shirts and ridiculous blood alcohol levels. Guys are drunker than usual and everyone seems to want to take everything to the next level. I don't think I've ever seen so many people vomiting in my life. It's depressing and hilarious all at once. I go inside to find the bathroom and pass three passed out juniors. I slip their half-full cups from their hands and dump them out while I walk, tossing the empties into the trash.

"Kati," Jenelle stumbles over and hugs me tightly. "I am so glad you're here. I miss you."

"I miss you too, Jen," I say, and she pulls away and puts her blitzed eyes right in front of mine.

"Axel said you're coming to grad," she says.

"Oh...yeah," I nod, with a shrug. "I guess it would be weird to miss it, y'know?"

"Totally," she nods emphatically.

"Jen, how much MDMA did you take?"

She waves a hand. "Not that much. Not as much as Megan."

She laughs.

"Where's Megan?"

But she's laughing and swaying to the music now, and then spins in a circle staring at the sky, nearly falling in the process.

"Jen," I repeat. "Jenelle!"

She looks at me, as though surprised to see me.

"What?" she smiles hugely.

"Megan. Where is she?"

"Oh..." she looks confused, and then glances around. "I don't know. She was here a minute ago..."

I chew my lip, wondering where Megan could have gotten to. When the song changes, Jenelle grabs my hand.

"Oh my god, Kati, let's go dance."

"I'll meet you there," I say, and she smiles her enormous smile and hurries off.

"Alright, Meg," I say under my breath. "Where the hell have you gotten to."

* * *

><p>I walk around the backyard but she's not there. She's not in the pool or around it, and she's not playing either of the drunken games going on. I scan the crowd in the house, dancing in the middle of the huge great room, ignoring the stares that I get. I'm still That Girl. The One who almost died, the One whose best friend died, the One who was almost raped. Berkeley can't come soon enough.<p>

I pass the make-shift dance floor and head down a hallway. I haven't been to Max's new house and I have no idea where I'm going. I open a door and find three juniors, naked and falling all over each other. I back up and close the door, shaking my head. The next door is an empty room, and then I find the bathroom. It's dark, but when I turn on the light I see her. Megan, passed out on the floor.

"Meg," I say, closing the door. She doesn't wake up.

I kneel down and push the red hair from her face. "Meg? Meg, wake up."

But she doesn't. Freaked out, I put my hand near her mouth. I exhale deeply when I feel her breath on my palm. But she's not hearing me and she's pale. I try to think of what Mom or Dad would do, and I put two fingers on her wrist. Her skin is hot and her pulse is racing, which is so wrong considering she's passed out.

"For fuck..." I mutter, pulling out my phone. I'm scared and it's making my hands shake. Mom answers on the first ring.

"Hey sugar," she says normally, but I know inside she's waiting for a bomb.

"Mom, I think...I think Megan overdosed on something," I say, my left hand drumming rapidly against my thigh.

"What? What happened? Where is she?"

"Beside me on the bathroom floor. She won't wake up but she's really warm, like scary warm. And her heart rate is really fast. Too fast."

"Don't leave, I'm on my way," she commands.

"Mom," I say quietly, terrified.

"It'll be okay, baby, just stay with her. Put her in the shower and turn on the cold water, and do not leave her."

"I won't," I say.

"I'm on my way, okay?"

"Yeah," I whisper, and then hang up.

Megan is small, shorter than me and smaller-boned, so lifting her into the tub is doable, but difficult because it's all dead weight. I flick on the cold water and move the shower head so it sprays towards her, resting at the back of the tub. I can't think straight.

"Megan," I say, taking her face in my hand. "Meg!"

She doesn't wake up. I feel like I'm going to throw up, and my heart is starting to compete with hers for speed. Max's new house is close to ours, maybe a 10-minute drive, but Mom gets here in about five. When she bursts through the door I feel relief erupt through me, forcing immediate tears from my eyes.

"You okay?" she asks, touching my face.

I lie with a nod, and she knows, but we both turn to Megan.

"Megan, honey?" Mom says loudly, feeling for her heart rate, counting in her head. "Baby, phone your daddy. He's on call at the hospital. Tell him we're bringing her in. I'm not waiting for an ambulance to get here."

Just then Axel bursts through the door.

"Kati," he hurries over, fear on his face as he grabs me. "What happened?"

He must have seen Mom come in.

"I don't know, she won't wake up. She took whatever Jenelle and Max took, but Jenelle said she took more than them. I don't...I don't know. We have to get her to the car," I say, flustered and terrified, my hands in my hair.

Without a word he goes to the tub and easily scoops Megan into his arms before heading for the door.

Mom grabs my hand and we hurry after him.

"Call her mother," Mom demands as Axel lies Megan across the back seat and climbs in after her.

Megan's mom. She's going to lose her mind. Shakily, I tap the number I know by heart into my phone. Tracy answers quickly.

"Hello?"

"Tracy, it's Kati," I say, trying to sound normal and just sounding throaty and uneven.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asks instantly.

"Um, something's wrong with Megan. I called my Mom and we're taking her to the hospital."

"St. Ambrose?"

"Yes," I breathe, choking on a sob.

"What happened? I'm leaving right now, but what happened?"

"I..." I don't know how to say this. I mean, who ever thinks of explaining to their friend's mom that she overdosed on MDMA? And who wants to explain to that mother that MDMA is the purest form of Ecstacy?

"Kati," she says firmly.

"She took something. Drugs."

"I'm on my way," she says, her voice hard and ragged all at once.

She hangs up and I drop my phone onto the console between Mom and I. I realize that Axel is leaning forward from the back seat, holding firmly onto my other hand. I squeeze it, my heart beating a rapid rhythm as tears slip steadily down my cheeks


	75. Chapter 75

At the hospital they whisk Megan away. Mom calls out for us to go wait in her office as she hurries down the corridor with the gurney.

"I can't fucking believe this," I say, falling onto the couch in Mom's office with my head in my hands.

Axel falls beside me, pulling me towards him.

"She's gonna be okay," he says quietly.

"I know," I exhale. "I just...I mean, it's Megan. She's not usually so..."

"Stupid," Axel finishes.

I give him a look.

"Sorry, but I mean...it's true. She knows better. She IS better."

"Yeah," I nod, scraping at my purple nail polish.

"I'm way too tired," he says, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands as he yawns.

"Probably because you went from drunk to scared to calm in about half an hour," I reply, monotone.

He gives a small smile and then lies down, pulling me with him. "Just try to sleep."

"I can't," I say, sitting back up. "You should, though."

He squeezes my hand and his eyes are already closing.

I wander over to Mom's desk. Sticky notes decorate manila patient folders, her neat scrawl almost exactly like mine. There's a photo of me on her desk from a couple summers ago when we were in Alabama. I'm laughing, gripping my guitar while sitting lazily in the hammock. I stare at that Kati; the one who didn't go through 95 insane things within the span of one year. That Kati seems like another person. That Kati seems so...young.

I pull a textbook from her shelf, not even looking to see what I'm reading, and open it up.

"Oh, super," I mumble to myself, scanning the pages with my eyes. "Endocrinology."

It's one aspect of medical school that I know I am definitely not going to love, but I read it anyways, the alternative being sitting here and thinking about Megan.

* * *

><p>Some time later, I feel a hand brush hair away from my face.<p>

"Kati," Mom says softly, and I open my eyes to find her there. "Must have been a fascinating book."

She grins, and I realize I'm splayed over the textbook, asleep on the pages.

"Oh yeah," I say, sitting up. "Hormones and secretion is just...riveting."

I rub my eyes, feeling the gritty texture of mascara on my fingers. "How's Megan?"

"She's gonna be just fine," Mom says, sitting on the desk. "Grounded for the rest of her life. But physically fine."

I nod, taking a deep breath; relieved.

"What happened tonight?" she asks, meaning details.

"I don't know," I shake my head. "When I got there, they were high. The next thing I knew Jenelle was spinning in circles and talking about how Megan took more drugs than she did, and I realized Megan wasn't there, and then..." I wave a hand. "Well, you know the rest."

"She could have killed herself," Mom says, somewhere between angry and unimpressed. "All three of them. What were they thinking? Ecstasy? It's incredibly stupid!"

"Well, technically it's not 'ecstasy'," I say, because I'm tired and have no filter. "MDMA is what you get when there's no adulterants added. Which is what ecstasy is..."

She raises her eyebrow, giving me one of the more terrifying Charlotte King looks.

"I mean, scientifically," I say, waving a hand of dismissal.

"Come on," she says, putting a hand on my back. "We're going home and you're going to bed. And in the morning you can explain to me all of the wonderful drugs your friends are experimenting with. And then we're going to research them and study the effects of them on your developing brains."

She grins, entertained by herself, as I stare back.

"Axel," Mom says, gently pushing me towards the door. "Let's go."

"That's not going to work," I say, exhausted and hanging my head back.

"What?"

"He sleeps like a deaf kid with congenital analgesia," I say, and we both kind of stop as she stares at me. "I'm so tired!" I say loudly; an explanation.

"Alright," she says, going over to Axel. "Axel, honey, wake up."

Still, he doesn't move. I lean against the wall, letting my head drop back against it.

"Axel," Mom says sharply, giving his face a little slap.

He jolts awake, staring at Mom as though she has three eyes. I have to laugh; the tired, giggly laugh of someone who is in desperate need of sleep. I look up at the clock and realize that it's 4:00 AM.

"Come on, I'll drive you home," Mom repeats, and Axel slowly sits up.

"Are we at the hospital?" he asks, clearly still half asleep.

"What is 'hospital'?" I look at him, frowning in confusion as though this is a crazy notion.

He stares, and his eyes widen for a second.

"Come on," Mom says again, her exhaustion showing now, too.

On the way out, we pass the waiting room where Megan's mom is. She looks exhausted and sad and disappointed. When she sees us, she gets up and hurries over.

"Kati," she says, hugging me. "Thank you."

"I didn't..."

"Yes. You did," she says, looking at me with gratitude.

She tries to smile through what I'm sure is a roller-coaster of emotions, and ends up giving me a small, flat grin.

I offer a small smile back and nod. "Will you let me know how she's doing tomorrow? Or if I can come see her?"

"Of course, honey," she nods. "You go on home and get some sleep."

I nod. "Thanks.


	76. Chapter 76

The next morning I wake up to Mom climbing onto my bed with her laptop and a glass of orange juice.

"Good morning, sugar," she smiles, settling in beside me.

"What time is it?" I croak, squinting at the brightness of the blinds she opened after entering.

"It's time for our promised study session on drugs and narcotics of the 21st century," she replies, far too chipper. "Drink your juice."

I flop back against my pillows. "Mom," I say, one word that says everything.

"Don't even think about arguin'. This is happenin' whether you like it or not."

"I don't. Do. Drugs," I say, burying my head in a pillow.

"I know. And your daddy and I fully expect that to be a constant in your life. And now, we're going to find out why."

"I know why," I say, annoyed.

"Why?"

"YOU know why! I'm not a bottom-feeding bonehead!"

"I never said that," she says, clicking away at her keyboard. "Now sit up. First up, cocaine."

I groan, getting up and grumpily going towards my bathroom. "She don't like cocaine!"

* * *

><p>Never underestimate my mother. We literally sit in my bed for two hours, while she reads me every ingredient, street name, side effects and long-term effects of, honestly, every drug. Ever. When Dad wakes up, having gotten home that morning around 6:00, he shuffles over to my bedroom door and stares at Mom with the same wrinkly-forehead look that I've been giving her for the past couple hours.<p>

"What are you doing?"

"Child abuse in the form of pharmacology," I reply, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Well stop it," he rubs his face. "No talk of drugs before there's talk of bacon. And eggs. And coffee."

"Oh thank god," I say, getting up.

"Hey, where do you think you're goin'?" Mom asks.

"I cannot disobey my father," I reply, my hands up in surrender, and I go to take a shower.

* * *

><p>I get a call from Megan's mom later that day, telling me that she's taking Megan home and that she'll have her call me when she wakes up, because she's probably going to be sleeping for the next couple of days. Instead, I busy myself with homework, cramming at least three weeks of work into four days. When I finally hear from Megan, I'm elbow-deep in an essay.<p>

"Hey," I say, dropping my books and going to sit on the couch. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," she croaks, sounding horrible. "Just feeling really stupid. I was an idiot, Kati...thanks for pretty much saving my life. Christ, when are you gonna catch a break?"

"Don't," I say softly. "I just want to know how you are."

"I'm just really tired. It's like the worst hangover, tenfold."

"Jeez," I reply, petting Nigel as he snoozes on the couch. "What'd your mom say?"

"Oh, you know Tracy. She's furious, but mostly just worried. I'm more worried about what your mom is going to do. And say."

It makes me laugh. "Actually, you owe me big time. She made me spend like, three hours with her the other day reading up on drugs and their effects on the developing teenage brain."

Mom looks over, raising an eyebrow.

"She's also looking me right now like she's going to flagellate and fry me up for dinner," I say, quieter. "Southern-style."

"Katelyn Freedman," Mom says, hands going to rest on her hips.

"I'm just kidding," I say, moving to flip onto my back on the cushion, with my legs hanging over the top. "So how long are you grounded for?"

"Until graduation," Megan replies, sighing. "As expected."

"Yeah, I'm not even surprised. Tracy's rock solid."

"Did everyone see?" she asks, embarrassed.

"No," I say, not wanting her to feel that way. "Everyone was smashed and dancing. A few people saw, but you know that anything that happens gets blown up into huge, over-the-top stories. I mean, look at the whole Silas thing."

"Yeah," she says after a moment, no doubt remembering some of the insane rumors people were spilling out about me. "I guess what better time to have my ratings go up than a few months before graduation?"

"Who gives a fuck what they think," I reply.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," I call to Mom. "Anyway...are you allowed visitors?"

"I'm allowed to have YOU over," Megan manages a small laugh. "But you've been given special privileges, on account of your saving my life and all."

"Don't say that," I laugh. "It's far too pretentious. Besides, I'm a total pervert. All I did was throw you in a shower and hose you down."

She laughs quietly, and is silent for a few moments.

"Seriously, Kati. Thank you."

"Yeah, don't mention it," I bite my lip. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Yeah. I should go. My mom's calling me. She's making me eat at regularly scheduled intervals. And I've been spending every single hour, except for maybe one per day, in my room. In bed. It's like, legitimately a prison."

"Yeah all you need is a baggie of coke up your butt and you're set," I reply, knowing that the joke, so soon after something so serious, will please her twisted humor.

"Kati!"

"Sorry Mom," I call, rolling my eyes. "I'll talk to you soon, Meg."

"For sure. See ya."

I hang up and pull myself up to look over the couch. Mom is sitting at the table, staring at me with her eyebrow raised.

"Eavesdropper," I say, hiding a grin.

"Child, I am not afraid to put you over my knee," she says, but she can't stifle the smile, and it makes me laugh.

"Are you marking that essay?" I ask, coming over to the table.

"I am," she replies, reading. "It's very good."

"Well, you know Dostoevsky. He does all the work, and I just write it down. Savagely humorous little Russian."

She smiles.

"So this is your last essay," she says, looking up from the paper.

"Yeah," I say, raising my eyebrows. "Crazy, huh?"

"No, I mean...this is your last essay. After this, you're officially done class work. You can go write the SATs. Dean Kim is ready to schedule them."

I stare. I knew I was coming to the end of my work load, but I hadn't actually sat down and considered the fact that I was almost finished. Like, finished finished.

"Wow," I say, nodding slowly.

Mom smiles, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "I'm so proud of you, baby. You've come so far, and you just keep impressing your daddy and I everyday."

I feel a blush creep up my neck. "Thanks," I say, and she leans forward and kisses my forehead.

She smiles and gestures to the essay. "I better finish this up."

And she goes back to reading.

* * *

><p>After finishing all of my school work, I spend the next two weeks studying constantly. Hours and hours each day I review old exams and essays and notes from my binders. I read until my eyes blur and feel gritty; until I feel like I could recite entire pages back to myself after reading them. So when Dean Kim calls one morning and tells me that I write the SATs on the following Friday, I'm ready.<p>

It's February 4. Fourteen days before my 17th birthday. I am, as always, the youngest person in my class. I'll be the last one to turn 21, and the last one to be able to rent a car, but oh well. It just means I can start and end university faster, and be working in a hospital sooner.

I go to Chadwick and find the correct room. I choose the desk farthest from the door, in the front row, and calmly wait for the exam. I look over at the desk next to me. The space in a classroom where Jamie usually sat. She should be here. She should be sitting here whispering to me to tell her the easiest way to solve quadratic equations, or the chronological dates of WWII battles. Instead, there's someone I don't know sitting there. I take a deep breath and keep Jamie's face in my mind. She's smiling. That's how I always picture her now. Just smiling; laughing. I can't help but smile too, as the exam is set in front of me and we are given permission to begin.

* * *

><p>You know how sometimes you want to hear a song, and you turn on the radio and it's already playing? Or you've been thinking about someone you haven't seen in awhile, and they suddenly call you or email you? The next day after lunch, I go to bring in the mail. There's a large white envelope. I don't think anything of it until I drop the mail on the counter and realize that it's addressed to me. And the return address is Berkeley.<p>

All I can do is stare at it. I received conditional acceptance months ago. But that's not full acceptance. That can still be taken away, depending on SAT scores or any number of things. This is an envelope from Berkeley. And it's addressed to me. And it's from _Berkeley_. And instead of ripping open the letter I have wanted ever since I was 12, I just stare at it. The blue and gold lettering, my name written across the front.

"Hey, honey, did my Amazon order come today?" Dad asks, coming into the kitchen and going to the fridge.

After a moment he comes closer. "Kati?"

I look up and he looks back, expectantly. "You okay?"

I swallow and pick up the envelope, turning it to face him. "Uh..."

"Oh my god," he says, grabbing it. "Oh my god, it's here!"

He smiles at me, huge and animated.

"Charlotte!" he calls.

Mom comes downstairs, still dressed in yoga pants and a hooded sweatshirt.

"What's goin' on?" she asks.

Dad holds up the envelope, and Mom's eyes slowly go wide.

"Kati," she bursts, smiling like Dad. "Baby, congratulations!"

"No," I say, the first thing I've said; the movement of my hand, as though to stop her, the first move I've made.

"No?" Dad frowns.

"No," I repeat. "What if...what it I didn't get accepted? What if they withdrew the conditional acceptance? What if-"

"Kati," Dad says gently, waiting until I make eye contact. His blue eyes twinkle, as if to say 'calm down'. He holds out the envelope while Mom clasps her hands, as though to keep from snatching the envelope from my hands.

I swallow hard, but my mouth feels dry.

I suddenly feel more fear than I ever have about Berkeley. I suddenly regret sending applications to the Sorbonne, or Oxford or Yale or Harvard, because I don't want them. I want Berkeley. I've wanted it forever, since I was 12 years old and stole Dad's Berkeley t-shirt from his drawer one day and never gave it back. Since I knew what Berkeley was and what it meant.

I glance up at them again, and there's nothing but confidence on both of their faces. I bite into my bottom lip and tear open the envelope. I slip the white paper out and unfold it.

_Dear Ms Freedman,_

_It is our pleasure..._

But I stop reading there because my eyes blur and a smile erupts on my face that I can't contain. Before I can even look up Mom and Dad are hugging me and congratulating me and I feel this immense sense of accomplishment and excitement and relief. Mom pulls away and her own eyes are glossed in tears. She smiles, cupping my face in her hands, without a word. But she doesn't have to say anything. The look on her face and the pride in her eyes is all I need.


	77. Chapter 77

Times passes quickly after that. My 17th birthday comes, and Mom and Dad throw me a huge party in our backyard. Mom even managed to talk Tracy into letting Megan come.

I wake up that morning feeling anticipation. But it's not for the party. It's for Jamie, and the fact that for the first time since we met, I will not be spending my birthday with her. I roll over and stare at the multi-photo frame on my wall. Her face always so happy, as though she knew all along that her life would just be all about fun and love and friendship. She never had a serious relationship, so she never had her heart broken. She never expected anything from her mother, so she was never disappointed when she never heard from her again. She got to be a kid, for her entire life.

The contagious smile on her face, and her too-blue eyes crinkled with laughter only bring a smile to my own face, now, instead of tears. It's not that I don't miss her, it's that I know she's with me in some way, all the time. Once in awhile, I won't lie, I cry over her. I get sad that she's not here, and I cry, but I don't stay sad for too long, because I know now what getting stuck in that hole means. So instead, I smile at her photo and roll away, getting out of bed.

Mom and Dad go all out, and I'm sure it's a mixture of No Jamie, Berkeley, and my incredibly awesome SAT score. Dad highlighted and circled the 2400 on the paper and keeps it on the fridge, pointing it out to anyone who will listen to him. He even sent a photo of it to Bubbie and Zeyde, who sent back the cutest email, so happy and excited for me, but, as Zeyde put it, "not even little bit surprised am I".

For breakfast, Dad takes us out for eggs Benedict, just the three of us. Afterwards, he slyly sneaks off after dropping Mom and I off at the mall. Mom lets me buy a Jimmy Taverniti AND Hudson jeans, and then we go shoe shopping. She insists on getting our nails done, and when we get to the spa it's clear that she's already booked us appointments. She smiles, glad that I had no idea until just now. So we have side-by-side facials and mani-pedis, and then go for lunch before Dad calls and says he's coming to pick us up.

"You're both being really weird," I say on the drive home.

"What? Why?" Dad asks, a terrible liar.

"Okay," I laugh, not even bothering to explain what they know.

And it all makes sense when we pull up to the house and there's an embarrassingly large Happy Birthday banner across our front door. There's also balloons, spilling out from the side of the house, by the backyard, onto the front lawn.

I laugh, stepping out of the car to go see everything. Because it doesn't end there. When I open up the front door, there are balloons everywhere. Some with helium and some just floating along the floor. There are decorations, and everything is purple. The blinds are closed to the patio, which they never are, so I look back to find Mom and Dad smiling.

"What did you do?" I tilt my head.

They both just shrug, holding up their hands.

I go over to the patio doors and slowly open then, jumping when the crowd outside screams, "Surprise!" at me. The house is nothing compared to this. There are decorations everywhere, there's a fricking DJ in the corner of the yard, there's food everywhere and, most importantly, there is friends and family everywhere. I'm laughing, trying to look back to see Mom and Dad, but people are already pulling me into the crowd. Axel and Addison and Amelia and Violet. Pete, holding Lucas, and Jenelle, Megan and Max. I see Sam with Jake and Dell, and Betsey clinging to his back. Everyone is shouting happy birthday at me and hugging me, and I can't keep the huge smile off my face. When the crowd finally lets me go, I turn and go to Mom and Dad, and the envelope me in their arms.

"Thank you," I say, pulling back to look them in the eye.

"You're welcome, baby," Mom smiles, her eyes glassy again.

"What is with you and these tears?" Dad asks, amused.

"Stop it," she mutters, hitting him softly. But we all laugh, because she doesn't usually tear up this much, and we all know it. She just pulls me in for a tight hug.

"I'm just so proud of you, and happy for you, and glad that you're mine," she says into my ear. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I say.

"Well don't leave me out of this," Dad complains, wrapping us both up in his arms. We laugh and wrap our arms around his back.

"Okay," Mom says, the tears gone as she smiles at me. "Let's go celebrate."

And we move into the crowd.

* * *

><p>I have one more hurdle to clear. March 1st. March 1st marks one year. One year since I begged Mom to let me go to that party at Axel's. One year since I got into that car with Jamie. One year since I lost the best friend I'll ever have. One since the life I knew turned into an abstract bundle of lines and colors that the me from a year had no idea how to handle.<p>

Somedays, I can't believe how much time has passed. How much has happened. I can't believe that I've gone six months, nine, 10 months without Jamie. Then somedays I feel like I haven't seen Jamie in forever, and it starts to scare me that I can't perfectly picture her face in my head; that I can't remember the exact way she used to stretch and talk to herself before a dance recital. Or that I can't remember the exact pitch of her laugh when she found something so hilarious that she would have tears from laughing so hard. When this happens I scroll through our endless photos, or watch old home videos from vacations and birthdays and soccer games, the little concerts we would hold and play guitar for my parents, or the sleepovers when we'd just film ourselves being ridiculous, thinking we'd one day get our own MTV show. She still makes me smile, even when I feel the worst.

I'll miss her, and feel the familiar hollow spot in my heart that I only notice when I think about her, instead of a year ago when it was there all the time, no matter what. I'll miss her and go watch one of those videos, and the tears in my eyes spill over, but only because I start to laugh. I still wear her sweet 16 ring, and I have her diaries and journals that I never have and never will read. I keep them in a box in my closet, and I never open it. I have her favorite sweater and the pair of Jimmy Taverniti jeans that fit both of us like some kind of Traveling Pants phenomenon. But mostly I have her, in my heart, every day. I have memories and I have the knowledge that Jamie was happy, and she just...loved. People, animals, dancing, music...life. And she loved me, in the deeply seeded bond that only little girls who grew up together can understand. She was my sister, in every sense of the word, except blood. But despite what anyone tells you, blood isn't really thicker than water.


	78. Chapter 78

March 1st arrives like an ocean swell. Anticipated, but I'm still kind of taken aback to see it in front of me.

As I lie there in my bed, I try to, minute for minute, remember this day last year. When did I wake up? It was a Saturday...that means I slept in. What did I have for breakfast? What did I do all day? Because Jamie came over for dinner; not at all during the day.

But I can't remember. All I can see is Jamie in her leather jacket, laughing about Brody. And the look on her face when I turned to look at her, only seconds before the crash. The blue of her eyes froze, glacier-clear, and if I had known any better I would have seen the reflection of the headlights in them. Her lips were parted and the plane of her face was free of everything. She wasn't sad or scared for that one moment. She was 16 and she was going to be a senior soon and she lived her life freely and without inhibition.

It was the fraction of a second later that my eyes bore into hers and saw it. Contrition. It pooled in the hollows above her eyes and the small space between her lips. Guilt for what was about to happen, and guilt for a hundred other things she would never be around to see.

Unrealistically, when I remember looking forward again, I feel like the headlights were inches away from my face. Truly, they were at least 10 or 12 feet away. But too close, nevertheless. I wish I'd kept my eyes on Jamie. I wish I'd never looked forward; spared myself the endless nightmares filled with headlights, bright and burning and all encompassing. And this entire time, this entire memory, is silent. I have no recollection of any sound whatsoever. I will never know if Jamie spoke, or screamed. I can't remember what song was on the radio, but I do know that ever since that day, whenever I hear the higher-pitched voice of Dallas Green, I have to turn him off. The first time it happened, it was involuntary. My arm shot out and my finger jabbed harshly on the power button of Mom's car stereo. But it was so soon after the accident that she didn't question me. They didn't question anything I did during that time. Any and every odd movement or empty look or idiosyncrasy was accepted. Not to the point of being talked about or questioned...just accepted. Noted.

I wish equally as powerfully that I both did and did not remember anything about that day. If it was magically and traumatically erased, I would never know these small, significant details. But if I didn't have these final few moments ingrained into my memory, like little handfuls of ice, I would wish for them. I would want them back.

I think that, medically, I have lost my voice today. I don't even cough or yawn or clear my throat. I am mute. Silent.

* * *

><p>I shower, spending an odd amount of time just standing there and staring at the wall. I don't see the wall; I only see snippets of memories. Afterwards, I quietly gather my guitar and my bag and go out to my car. I feel Mom and Dad's eyes on me, watching from the front door. But they don't try to stop me or join me, and they don't try to do that infuriating thing where people try to say something to make you feel better. Sometimes are just better handled silently.<p>

I drive to Jamie's house first. Her old house. The ridiculous little garden gnomes of the new homeowners are still there. The grass is impeccable and the front step has several potted plants. I don't care if it's weird, or if it makes the people uncomfortable, I just get out and go sit on the lawn. I lie there and stare at the sky and remember the countless hours we spent lying in the this very spot, deciding that certain clouds looked like Hungry Hippos and others were quite obviously her or me kicking a soccer ball. We'd spread out and drink slushies and tell secrets and laugh. The kind of laughter that brings tears to your eyes and makes your stomach hurt from the exertion. Now, my eyes prickle but I'm smiling. I hope that someday, if I have a daughter, she has these kinds of days. Sitting with her best friend on a lawn and laughing until she clutches her stomach. I hold onto these kinds of memories like candies tucked in my cheek. Sweet and lasting.

When I sit up, I see the man who lives here now standing in the front doorway. I get up and glance at him, but he's not angry or annoyed. If anything he's got pity in his eyes. He knows, I think to myself. He knows who lived here before him.

I get back into my car and drive. I go to the cemetery. I consider the beautiful gothic church and the plethora of flowers in every direction. I park and walk slowly to the spot I've only been once, but remember perfectly. I stare at the grass, vibrant and healthy. The irony.

When I get to her headstone, there are flowers there. Other people have been visiting Jamie. I see the card on one bouquet of gerber daisies. The flowers are from George. For a second I feel a stab of something. Not pain...I can't describe it. I wonder why he didn't stop by to see me, but then I think, why would he? He doesn't need any more reminders of his former life; his life with a daughter.

I sit down. I didn't bring her anything. George had no idea, but Jamie hated flowers. She never understood the point of bringing someone something that they had to water and take care of, just so they could die and permeate a room with the scent of too-sweet rotting flowers. And besides, I didn't come here to drop something off and leave. I came here for Jamie. I came to visit her, because even though I said I wasn't going to come here today, or ever again, here I am anyways.

I was surprised, to realize as I was showering, that I wanted to come here today. I had been so set on my decision to stay away. But I feel like this is where I am supposed to be, right now.

I take out my guitar.

"If you had any kind of zombie powers, you'd wilt these flowers in seconds," I say to her; to the air where she lives.

I tune my guitar.

"Don't even say 'I told you so'. I don't care what I said, you knew I'd be back here."

I exhale and lean back against her headstone. With a rush of deja vu, I being to play the Pearl Jam song she loved so much. The one I sang for her that day. Then I play her the song I wrote for her, and I play Ballerina. I play her favorite Death Cab song and a couple of our favorite Tegan & Sara songs.

I'm not sure how long I stay. When my fingers are indented from the strings and I don't feel like singing anymore, I put the guitar away. I lie down, right beside where she is, six feet below, so if she were here, we'd be side-by-side. Our shoulders would be pressed against each other and we'd each point our forehead towards the other and stare at the sky.

I don't say anything. I have nothing to say. Everything I have, can only be felt. And, I suppose, the silver lining to all of this now, is that I don't have to speak for Jamie to hear me.


	79. Chapter 79

Now that I'm already a high-school graduate, there's no homework for me to fill my extra time with. Mrs Mason hires me to tutor Allegra, and I sign up for some free online courses from Yale. One on molecular genetics, one on Jewish history and one, just for fun, in psychology. I don't plan on taking many psych courses, because my schedule is already full. Mom and Dad and I sat down and registered all of my courses, and I'm going to be insanely busy. Addison says the only person she's seen with a course load that full, is her, when she was in med school. But I'm excited for it.

I spend March tutoring, hanging out with friends, hanging out with Axel and helping out at the practice, since the receptionist, Norah, had a death in her family and had to go to Maryland.

April arrives, and with it the anticipation of Amelia's (and Addison's) baby. Her hormones have mellowed out a bit, but she still cries over the simplest things. We have a BBQ at home to celebrate Jake's birthday in the 13th. Watching him and Addison together, planning and preparing for the arrival of their baby, is so cute. I've never seen Addison glow like she does, and she's not even the one who's pregnant.

Everyone comes for the party, even Dell and Betsey, who've been MIA for the last little while, ever since they moved to a new neighborhood, closer to Betsey's private school.

I go inside to change out of my bathing suit. I walk through the closet and open the bathroom door. My chest constricts as I see Max jump, startled, and try to cover up what she's been doing.

Speechless, I stare at her and then at the counter. There's a razor blade on my sink and small droplets of scarlet across the white surface.

"Kati...don't," she starts, and her eyes fill with tears. Her right hand is clamped over her left wrist.

I move my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"What's wrong?" I finally manage, my own eyes prickling.

She reaches out and shoves the door closed, before sinking against it, to the floor. Like me, Max can usually hold herself together until someone asks her if she's okay, or hugs her. As expected, she drops her head into her hands and starts to sob. Deep, pent-up sobs.

I'm already down on my knees in front of her. I grab a tissue and wrap it around her wrist wordlessly.

"Max," I whisper, my fingers locked around her thin wrist.

She just shakes her head. I run through all the times I've seen Max lately. Did she seem sad? Upset?

In all honesty, I haven't seen Max much at all. I've been busy, and she's been in school. I see her once a week, maybe twice, for shopping or a party. I take in her clothes. Shorts, of course, but her top is long-sleeved. Long sleeves in hot weather...

I move around beside her and wrap my arms around her, and she lets her head fall against my chest as her sobs refuse to weaken. There's nothing to say at this moment. Right now, she just needs to cry. I get it. I don't understand what she was doing, but I know what it's like to feel like you're being crushed, and to just need to cry sometimes. Endlessly.

Someone knocks after a little while. Max silences her sobs.

"Kati, honey?" Mom calls.

"Just a minute. I'll be out in a minute," I say back calmly.

"Have you seen Max, baby?"

"Yeah, she's in here. We're just talking," I reply, as Max sniffles.

"She okay?" Mom asks, worried and already knowing something isn't right.

"Yeah, just...guy stuff," I say. The lie tastes like pennies on my tongue.

"Alright..." Mom concedes. "I'll see y'all outside then."

"K," I say, and we hear her walk away.

Max sniffles, her breathing finally more regular. She barely looks me in the eye.

"Thanks," she whispers.

Silently, I look at her, scared and worried.

"Max," I say, and she finally glances at me, straight on.

"You can't tell anyone," she says flatly.

"I..."

"You can't, Kati. Promise me," she demands.

I frown. This is a little above my maturity level. I'm not sure what to do.

"Promise," she says again.

"Okay," I nod. "I promise."

She nods slowly, pulling her sleeves down. I realize, as I look at the shirt, that she's been wearing long sleeves a lot. This particular shirt, she has in several colors. We bought them together.

"But, Max..." I start, and swallow. "Why? I mean...why are you doing this?"

She stares at the tissue in her hands, blotted red in spots.

"You wouldn't understand," she says.

I raise an eyebrow.

"Uh, pardon?" I say, attempting some humor because I'm scared and it's my go-to coping mechanism. "Let us reflect on Kati's year and rethink that one."

Thankfully, she cracks a smile.

"Sorry, I just mean..." she shakes her head. "I'm sorry. You're probably the most understanding person I know. Which is why I haven't talked to anyone about this. I wanted to talk to you, but...I couldn't."

"Well...try? Please?" I ask, legs crossed as I face her, reaching out to hold her hand. The hand that holds the razor.

She looks at me, and the pain and sadness in her eyes makes my own tingle with tears again.

"I don't..." she begins.

I don't rush her; I wait. But I'm impatient.

"You're pretty much perfect. Four-point-oh. Hot. Funny. Gorgeous boyfriend..."

"You're beautiful, Max. And funnier than I am! And smart and compassionate and way too good at five-card stud for your own good."

She cracks a wry smile.

"Sometimes I just...I feel like it's too much," she confides.

I wait, but she doesn't go on.

"You mean school? Friends? College?" I guess.

"Yeah," she looks at me, almost surprised.

"I know. It's...crazy. It's a lot of stress."

"Then how do you manage it so perfectly?"

"Let's stop saying perfect, okay?" I wrinkle my nose. "There's no such thing. And I'm not that great at managing stress. If I didn't have my mom and dad...I don't know what I'd do."

"Exactly," she whispers, and a few tears drop.

Her dad.

I chew the inside of my lip, unsure of what to say. I've experienced loss, but not like hers.

"It must be really hard. Not having him here for graduation," I venture.

She nods, her head down as tears drop onto her lap.

"Lately I just...don't care. About anything," she whispers.

I squeeze her hand.

"I don't care about school, or finals, or college...I mean, I'm positive I bombed my AP English final. I'll be the laughing-stock of the entire AP department."

"No you won't," I answer confidently.

"Kati, I didn't even finish it. I wrote part of the essay, and then I just left. It was like...I was staring at my words, and at the paper, and I just...didn't care. If I passed, or failed, or got into college..."

"Well," I exhale. "You won't fail. You've maintained a killer GPA all year. Hell, all four years. And as for college...you already got in."

She scoffs quietly.

"Not where I wanted," she whispers.

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted Berkeley. I've always wanted Berkeley. Just like you. Remember? We'd always talk about it?"

I nod.

"I thought your letter came?" I ask softly.

She looks up at me, a little ashamed.

"It did. But I lied to you..." she shakes her head, upset. "I didn't in to Berkeley."

"I'm sorry," I say, squeezing her hand again. "Max, I'm so sorry."

"My dad went there, too," she whispers.

I nod. She still wears his Berkeley t-shirt as pajamas.

"Where did you get in?" I ask quietly.

"Every other place," she replies sharply. "How fucked up is that?"

I inhale.

"Very," I reply. "But..."

I want to word this positively; not insensitively.

"You applied to some really great schools, Max."

She shrugs.

"No, seriously. That means you got into Columbia, Northwestern, NYU, Harvard AND Sarah Lawrence?" I stare at her.

She blushes a little; rare for her. She nods.

"Dude," I say, unable to hide my smile. "That's fucking incredible!"

She shrugs again.

I try to imagine how I would feel if I hadn't gotten in to Berkeley. I remember that feeling before opening the envelope. Pure fear.

"I'm really sorry Berkeley didn't happen," I say. "They're missing out on a killer Setter of the Bell Curve."

She manages a soft chuckle. An inside joke, from freshman year, when we wrote a comic book for art class, about a superhero whose power was ingenuity, and all of his classmates had to try to keep up to his scores. Extremely geeky, and we got an A+.

"They'll have you," she says quietly. Not bitterly, but...not happy.

"And one of those other schools gets you," I reply. "Maxima Elisabeth Brinkley."

I hide a smile as she looks up at me with a glare.

"I can't believe you just said that," she says. "You pinkie-promised me in eighth grade that you would never say that aloud."

"I like it," I say, palms up. "I mean, your parents actually named you something synonymous with 'greatest'. That...is kind of awesome."

She shakes her head, a small smile.

It's quiet for a minute, and I exhale deeply but quietly.

"Look, Max," I begin, wanting to get this right. "I get stress. I understand it. I mean, over the past year I did a lot of things to try and cope with it. Bad things. Like not eating for days, or shutting down and shutting out my parents, and my friends. But...Max, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"It doesn't hurt," she replies easily. "It feels better."

"Why?" I ask, genuinely curious and not judgmental.

"Because. It's like...when everything else is crazy and I feel like I'm going to explode, this feels like...Like a release."

I think back to some psych textbooks.

"Substituting one pain for another," I say.

She looks up, surprised. "I guess...Yeah."

I nod slowly.

"Do you want to talk to Violet? She really helped me when I was-"

"No," she says, more forcefully. "You can't tell anyone, Kati. You promised."

I swallow.

"But...Max, you could...you could really hurt yourself."

She shakes her head, getting up.

"I don't go deep enough," she replies matter-of-factly.

She flushes the bloody tissue down the toilet, and checks her makeup, making sure it's not smeared.

"Look," she turns around, and I stand up. "You promised. And we don't break promises to each other. Right?"

I glance away, and then look back at her. "Right."

"Well then," she says, with a shrug.

We look at each other. I feel a tightness in my chest.

"We better get out there," she says, and walks past me, opens the door and leaves.


	80. Chapter 80

I stand there for a few seconds before following her out. Downstairs, I see her slip out the patio doors, and Mom walks inside.

"Hey," she says, coming over to where I'm standing near the kitchen. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I tell the first lie.

I know she would be able to tell; see it swirling in my eyes like a snake. I turn around and walk to the fridge.

"You two were up there for awhile," Mom goes on, leaning against the island with her drink in her hand. I meet her eyes and she raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I exhale, coming off as nonchalant. "You know Max. Has to analyze every aspect of every guy she might like."

Mom smiles as I walk forward with a Pellegrino in my hand. A drink I didn't even want, I just needed somewhere else to look.

"Who's the lucky guy?" Mom asks.

For a second I actually feel guilty, knowing that I lied and she bought it.

"Some guy at school," I shrug. "New kid, I guess."

I think I see it, the flicker of perception in the green eyes that match mine. But she doesn't call me out. She just smiles, tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, and steers me to the backyard with her hand on my back.

* * *

><p>I keep Max's secret, but it feels like stones in my stomach and pennies in my mouth. I'm not sure if it's better or worse that I don't see her everyday, because I'm not at Chadwick. And I know<p>

everyone can tell. I'm about as inconspicuous as neon pink socks. Mom keeps giving me this knowing look, Dad keeps asking if I'm okay and then feeling my forehead, thinking I must be sick.

And Axel is getting impatient.

"Kati, come on," he says, for the third time.

We're at the paintball field and I keep zoning out. I think of too many scenarios. What if she cuts too deep? What if the scars never heal and she winds up regretting and being embarrassed by

the series of lines? What if someone else catches her? The last one, I feel both good and badly about. Of course I don't want Max to have to experience that sinking feeling of having a secret

exposed. But I also don't like being the only keeper of this secret. My stomach was not built for this. If someone else found out, maybe they would tell someone.

The worst thought, is that if she does end up seriously hurting herself, and I knew...well, it would be my fault. I would have had the power to say something, and I hadn't. This is the thought that

has kept me awake and made me walk to my parents' bedroom door at three in the morning and raise a fist to knock, and then dropping my clenched fist and going back to bed. To tell or not to

tell...

"Sorry," I say to Axel, looking around for the other team.

"Girl, what is up with you?" he asks, not unkindly.

"Nothing," I lie, and run away from him, towards a shield .

I hear paintballs follow me, and they miss me. I duck behind the shield and look around. I see a few opponents, and manage to take down one of them. But it doesn't feel like a victory. For the

first time that I can remember, I don't want to be here.

I exhale and put the forehead of my helmet against the ground.

'No,' I think to myself.

And I get up and walk off the field, somehow unnoticed by the other team. I hear Axel calling my name, but I just get in my car and leave.

The game had just begun, so I am relatively clean of paint. It's 1:30. Axel has spare periods all afternoon, hence our game, but Max doesn't. I drive to Chadwick and pull into the familiar parking

lot. I get out and walk towards the expanse of lush green grass. Random students are spattered across the lawn, doing homework or hanging out with their friends. The late lunch crowd are

taking up tables and talking loudly. I catch a familiar glint of violently red hair. It's Max. She's alone, in the grass, with a binder in her lap. She's skipping class, and making herself a target to get

caught. Either she did this on purpose, or she's completely unaware.

I walk over to her. As I get closer, I see that she's bent over her binder, but not necessarily reading it.

"Max," I say, more harsh than I intended.

She startles, and I see her right hand shoot under her thigh as her left arm flips over. She stares at me, shocked.

"Here?" I stare at her. "In the middle of the quad?"

"Kati," she starts.

"No, Max, listen," I cut her off, shaking my head. "I can't do this. I can't keep your secret. You're going to seriously hurt yourself, and I don't have the kind of strength to deal with you getting hurt

while knowing that I could have done something."

"Kati, you promised," she says angrily. The thing she's hiding under her thigh is a protractor. I see it and she tries to push it farther out of my sight.

"I'm fine," she says, and I almost laugh. Not a good laugh—a stunned laugh.

"Max, look at yourself," I say, quieting down and sinking to my knees.

She looks away. I reach out and take her left arm. She resists me, but I don't let go. I turn it over.

The trail of little lines goes from the middle of her forearm up to the crook of her elbow.

I see her cheeks flush red.

"Don't," I say, softening. "Don't be embarrassed, Max. Just see that I'm scared. For you. And that all of that stuff you're so angry about is coming out as this, when it could be coming out as words, instead."

"I'm not talking to some shrink," she spits.

"I did," I reply easily.

"So did I," she says sarcastically. "When I was 11. It didn't do anything."

"Well...you were pulling the old MegaMax thing, where you act like you're fine and people believe you. Didn't your mom want you to keep seeing her?"

She shrugs. "It doesn't matter. That was different."

"But still the same," I reply. "Pain is relative. Different things cause different pain."

She wipes at her face and then stashes her protractor in her bag.

"Whatever," she says, standing up. "You made a promise. Friends don't break promises."

She turns and walks quickly towards the front doors.

"Max!" I yell, but she ignores me.

* * *

><p>Furious and scared, I drive to the practice. I'm not sure why. I don't intend on telling Max's secret. I just need to be somewhere safe.<p>

The new receptionist smiles, recognizing me.

"Hey Kati," she says.

"Hey Emme," I reply. "How's everything going?"

"Good," she smiles. "I've got the hang of it now. You sure you're not mad that I swiped your job?"

I laugh. "I was the temp. It was nepotism. You're doing a way better job."

She smiles and answers the phone, so I walk towards the line of offices. Dad and Mom both have patients in with them. I walk and come to Amelia's office, where she and Addison are poring

over catalogues for baby clothes.

"Hey!" Addison looks up. "Come pick out baby clothes."

I drop my bag on the opposite couch and go sit beside her.

"You okay?" she asks, a hand rubbing my back.

"Mmhmm," I nod, giving a smile.

"Liaarrrrrr," Amelia sings, flipping the page.

"Preayyyyyg-naaaant," I sing back.

She chuckles.

"I really want to buy this sailor outfit if it's a boy," Addison points.

"Girls can wear sailor outfits," I say, peering at the page.

"If it's a girl, Addison is going to put her in horrible pink things," Amelia makes a face.

I frown at Addison. "You better not," I say.

She stares back, slightly offended.

"This is cute!" she defends, holding up the magazine so I can see a pink and white dress.

"That is disgusting," I reply, dead-pan.

"Exactly," Amelia says.

Addison scoffs. "So rude," she mutters, flipping more pages.

"Where'd you come from?" Amelia asks, eating blueberries and offering me some.

"Charlotte King," I reply, taking a few.

"Uh, pardon?"

We look up and see Dad, stopped in the doorway. He's got an eyebrow raised and his valley-girl voice on the ready.

"I mean physically," I roll my eyes. "Not genetically."

"Man, I miss pregnant Charlotte," Addison says wistfully, looking up towards the ceiling. "She was so..."

"Bitchy?" Dad says, staring at her.

"Yes," Addison grins mischeviously. "Bitchy. A lot of fun to watch."

"She was bitchy before that, too," Amelia shrugs.

"Stop saying 'bitchy'," Dad says, stealing blueberries.

"Say 'strong-willed' and 'confident'," I suggest.

"Remember that day when she was like, 13 months pregnant, and you brought her lunch, Cooper, but there were tomatoes on the sandwich?" Addison laughs as she talks.

Amelia and Dad chuckle.

"I've never seen a pregnant woman try to get up so quickly," Amelia laughs harder. "She wanted to kill you."

"Literally," Dad nods. "I think she would have. If she could have caught up with me."

They all laugh again.

"Mom loves tomatoes," I stare.

"Not during months four to nine," Dad shakes his head.

"Something terrible happened," Addison says, pretending to be so serious. "One day it was pizza and pasta, and then suddenly..."

She shakes her head.

"No tomatoes," Dad nods. "NO tomatoes."

"Didn't she cry one morning because she poured you coffee and you said you weren't feeling well, so you didn't want it?" I ask.

"Oh yeah," he nods. "Sobbed."

"Bet you've never refused a cup of it since," Amelia smiles.

"I learn slowly with women," Dad defends himself. "But I do learn. And then I never forget."

"Like an elephant," I say.

He attempts to make an elephant noise but ends up looking like he's going to explode.

"Please stop," I say, my hand on his arm. "Please."

He smiles. "What brings you here today? I thought you were playing paintball?"

Oh shit, I think. "I did. Earlier," I say.

Because I did. I took out two opponents, regardless of how early I walked away.

"Where's Axel?"

"Uh," I say. "I dunno."

The problem with extremely attentive parents and family, is how little they don't pick up on.

"Did he...disappear?" Addison raises an eyebrow.

I frown, looking at each of them, looking at me.

"No," I say.

They're still staring. And I don't imagine I'd do too well with all of them asking me questions.

"I need a drink," I stand up. "Anyone else?"

"No thanks," they mumble, watching me.

I quickly leave, going to the kitchen.

"Hey," Jake smiles, closing the fridge. "Brainiac. How's it going?"

"Doctors can't call other people brainiacs," I reply, opening the fridge back up.

He laughs. "I'm pretty sure you'd beat a lot of us at Trivial Pursuit."

"Good game," I nod, drinking some water.

"So what's up? What are you going to do with these last few weeks before prom?"

I make a face.

"You are the only girl I've ever met who expresses zero excitement for prom. Almost disdain, even," he looks at me, opening a container.

"Not really my thing," I shrug, taking the cookie he offers.

"I hear you had a really good time with the ladies, picking out the dress," he smirks.

I fake-glare, shaking my head. "It was horrible."

"Got the job done quicker, though, I'm sure," he shrugs.

"What? No! They made me try on every dress in the greater Los Angeles area. Then I had to stand there while they cried or pointed or screamed."

He laughs. "I imagine just about anything makes Amelia cry at this point."

"She wasn't the only one crying," I reply dryly.

He laughs, resting his elbows on the table as he eats. "So what would you rather do then? To celebrate graduation."

I chew my lip, thinking.

"I dunno, maybe go to Tahoe? Go snowboarding? Or just have a house party. Or go paintballing..."

"So is the dress your main issue, or the whole thing?"

"Don't get me wrong, I love clothes," I say, to which he nods, as if this is obvious. "I just don't like dressing up to be paraded around and photographed, while having a dying flower stuck to my

wrist."

He laughs, shaking his head.

"You are something else," he says.

I flick an eyebrow, "I guess."

He comes around the table and wraps an arm around my neck, kisses my temple and backs up towards the door.

"Patients," he jerks a thumb backwards. "But thank you. I needed to laugh today."

"Stay excellent," I wave lazily, going to the cupboard to find anything delicious.

I know for a fact that Dad hides gummy bears and sour candies somewhere in here.


	81. Chapter 81

Later that night I'm in my room, playing my guitar. I can't stop thinking about Max. I try to distract myself from that by thinking about graduation, but that doesn't exactly cheer me up. Axel's called a few times but I've managed to hold him off, telling him that I just wasn't feeling well at paintball, and that I'm tired now and going to bed.

He doesn't buy it, but he backs off and gives me some space.

I hear a knock on my door and Mom sticks her head into my room.

"Hey, aren't you coming to eat? It's Thai," she smiles.

"No thanks," I reply, sitting on my bed, leaned back against the wall.

Mom eyes me and then comes in and closes the door.

"You need to talk about something, sugar?" She sits on my bed.

I glance up at her but look away. Which is a stupid move. I am really terrible at this.

"No," I lie.

I think I've lied to her more in the last couple days that I have in my entire life. I hate it, and I can tell that it's bothering her too. She knows I'm lying, and it must hurt her feelings since I've never been a liar.

"Kati," she starts, running a hand over Nigel's head as he sleeps. "Whatever it is...you can tell me. If it's you, or someone else, or someTHING else...whatever it is, we can fix it."

I exhale.

"We've never had anything taboo. I'm here, your daddy's here...no judgment; we're just worried about you."

"I'm fine," I say, flicking my fingers across the strings.

She raises an eyebrow. We both know what 'fine' means.

"Do I need to be worried about you right now?"

I chew my lip. "No," I say; the truth.

"Then what is it, baby?" she asks, believing me.

I swallow and exhale again. Max's secret makes me feel nervous and as though I need to take deeper breaths.

"Alright, how about this. I guess, you respond. You don't have to say anything, or nod your head or whatever. I say something, and we both know I'm gonna be able to tell the answer just by looking at your face."

She raises an eyebrow.

"K," I say, leaning farther against the wall so my neck is at an almost-uncomfortable angle.

"Axel?"

I stare at her.

"Jamie?"

Stare.

"Your daddy or me?"

Stare.

"Max."

It's not a question; well played, Mother. As soon as the word leaves her mouth, I involuntarily flick my eyes away.

"Alright, I'd already guessed that much," Mom says, adjusting her position on the bed so she's facing me directly.

"Did you two have a fight?"

I shake my head. I feel like the truth is sitting like a balloon on my tongue, slowly swelling and swelling and soon it's going to burst. And so am I.

"So it's just Max..." Mom says, petting Nigel again.

I feel like my stomach is made of stone. I don't want to betray Max, and that is exactly how she would see it. A betrayal. But I can't bear knowing that she's hurting, and that that pain has gotten so big that she's trying to let it seep through tiny cuts in her skin. Relieving the pressure.

"Please don't ask me anything else," I say quietly, feeling my eyes prickle.

"Baby, I can't just stand back and do nothing. Especially when I can see that you're clearly upset. When it comes to you...well I'm a Mama Bear, through and through."

I set my guitar aside; I've played for so long that my fingers are starting to hurt.

"Is she in trouble?" Mom asks.

I don't look at her.

"With a boy?"

I glance at her, shake my head almost imperceptibly.

Mom nods slowly, thinking. "Alright... So it's just Max. And she's in trouble. And she's made you promise not to tell anybody."

I glance up at her through my eyelashes, still bent awkwardly against the wall. My chin is almost touching my chest and I have no idea why I've chosen this position. Maybe I'm hoping to sink into the wall and disappear.

"Is she pregnant?" Mom asks, even though she asks it with an air of skepticism.

I shake my head. She inhales, exhales. I can imagine her patience is being tested, but she doesn't lose it. She runs a hand through her blonde hair.

"This has something to do with the day of Jake's party. When you two were in the bathroom."

The prickling behind my eyes strengthens. I suck at this. The wall I've been trying to hold up is crumbling in front of me. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I don't think I can keep this secret for Max.

"Baby, come here," Mom says softly, as a couple of enormous tears spill over and fall.

I sit up, but not to go into her waiting arms. I lean all the way forward and cover my face and bury my head in my blankets.

"I can't," I shake my head, my voice thick with tears.

"Kati," I hear her, as she moves forward and envelopes me in her arms.

It's weird how she isn't overly tall or big, but that place in her arms feels impenetrably safe.

She rubs my back as I try to stop crying, my face still buried in the bed.

"Baby, it's okay," she says softly.

I shake my head.

"I know you want to be a good friend, and keep her secret," she says calmly. "But if someone is in trouble, or could be hurt...Kati, you know you can tell me."

My face feels hot and swollen.

"Sugar, look at me," she says.

Slowly, I sit up and meet her eyes. She reaches out and brushes away the tears on my cheeks.

"If she's in trouble, it's not betrayal, baby. Sometimes being a good friend means making a hard decision."

I nod. She waits.

"She's having a really hard time. With school and everything. She misses her dad," I say quietly.

Mom listens, rubbing my arm.

"I guess everything's just gotten to the point of being too much, and she's..." I stop, swallowing the words.

I picture Max's face when she realizes I've told her secret. The hatred and fury that would fill her eyes. But then I picture Max not being here at all. And I realize that I can handle her hating me. I can handle her giving me dirty looks and claiming that I've betrayed her. But what I couldn't handle is not having Max around anymore. So I choose her hatred.

"She's been...cutting herself," I almost whisper.

The words deflate the pressure building my chest. The fear of the repercussions leaves my stomach as stone, but I can breathe.

"Oh, honey," Mom says, pulling me into a hug. "I'm glad you told me."

"She's gonna hate me," I whisper into her arm.

"Maybe at first," Mom says. "But not forever."

She pulls me up and wipes the tears from my face again.

"You did the right thing, baby. Whatever happens, even when you're all grown up and I'm an old wrinkly woman, you always come tell your mama what's wrong."

I manage a smile, and she pushes hair behind my ear.

"What do we do now?" I ask, meeting her eyes.

"We talk to Max's mother," she says sadly, knowing I'll hate to hear this.

I close my eyes, feeling more horrible.

* * *

><p>Mom drives us over to Max's house. It's getting dark as we pull into the driveway. I see Mrs Brinkley through the kitchen window.<p>

"I feel like I'm gonna throw up," I say.

"I know," Mom says, squeezing my hand. "It's gonna be okay."

She waits for me to nod and then we get out of the car.

"Kati, Charlotte, how are you?" Mrs Brinkley smiles upon opening her front door.

She looks tired. No doubt living with Max has been difficult lately.

"We're just fine, Claire, how've you been?" Mom smiles.

"Oh, y'know," Mrs Brinkley rolls her eyes. "Almost something on the go. Would you like to come in? Kati, Max is upstairs. I could go-"

"No," I say quickly. "It's okay. I just..."

I glance at Mom.

"You mind if we talk to you, Claire?" she asks.

A look of worry passes over her face, as she moves to let us in.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, even though she knows it's not.

We stand in their foyer. Max's stepdad must be at work.

"Claire, we're worried about Max," Mom starts.

"I know," she nods understandingly. "She's been so stressed about final exams and graduation."

"Right," Mom says. "Well...it's a little more than that. Max has been hurting herself."

Claire frowns. "Hurting herself?"

I stare at the floor, memorizing the pattern of the tile.

"Cutting herself," Mom says gently.

"What? What are you talking about?" she demands, worried and disbelieving all at once. "No. Max wouldn't...she would talk to me."

I look up and meet her eyes for the first time.

"It's true," I say quietly. "I saw. She was in my bathroom. I walked in on her."

The color drains from her face.

"She's been in a bad mood lately? Spending a lot of time by herself? Wearing long sleeves even when it's 90 degrees outside?"

Claire swallows. "When...when did you..."

She stutters, unsure of what to do. Mom places a hand on her arm.

"Claire, whatever you need, we'll be there. You bring her in to the practice and we'll get her the help she needs. We have a psychiatrist on staff. She was wonderful with Kati during this past year."

Claire looks at me, her eyes swimming, to find my own eyes wet. She looks confused and heartbroken.

"I don't..."

"This isn't your fault," Mom says.

Tears slip down her cheeks. I hear a door open somewhere in the house. My stomach churns as footsteps get nearer and suddenly Max and I are staring at each other. She's not right in front of me, but a few metres away at the foot of the staircase. Shock and understanding wash over her face. My chest flutters.

"Max," Claire says, turning to see her. Max sees the tears on her mother's face and turns to me again. Her eyes flash.

"You promised," she says quietly, her voice full of anger.

"I'm sorry," I choke out. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"How could you do this?" she yells, her fists clenching. "You _promised _me!"

I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

"Max," Mom starts, but I've already taken a step backwards.

"I can't believe you, Kati! I can't believe you did this to me! You were my best friend!"

I know that nothing I say will help right now. I know that Max is inches away from rock bottom, and she's about to hit it, and the only person who can help right now is her mother. And soon, Violet.

I chose this outcome. I chose her hatred. So I stare at her, mouth the words 'I'm sorry', and turn around, running out of the house


	82. Chapter 82

When we get home, I see Axel's car in the driveway.

Mom gives me a knowing look.

"You leave that boy on the paintball field this afternoon?"

"You get any awards for your psychic skills?" I mumble, getting out of the car.

She laughs, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we walk up the driveway.

"Maybe I just know my daughter," she smiles.

We get inside and find Dad and Axel playing a loud game of Black Ops.

"Aaaagghhh, again! This controller is defective," Dad groans.

"I dunno, Doc, you made the same mistake twice, bro. You gotta watch your back," Axel shrugs, still playing.

"Defective," Dad mumbles.

"That controller is brand new because someone 'lost' the other one," Mom says, by way of a greeting.

"Lucas," Dad spins around. "It was Lucas."

"Blaming a baby, Dad?" I tilt my head.

Beaten, he hangs his head.

Axel pauses the game and comes to hug me.

"You okay?" he asks, worried.

I nod, chewing my lip. "Yeah, just a...crazy day. Sorry I bailed on you like that. I just..."

"It's okay," he shakes his head. "I'm just glad you're okay. I thought maybe...I thought I did something."

"No," I shake my head, squeezing his hand. "Not at all."

"Promise?" he asks, his green eyes sparkling.

"Promise," I half-smile, and kiss him.

"Axel, honey, have you eaten?" Mom calls from the kitchen.

"No, ma'am," he calls back.

"Well come on, then," she calls back. "Neither has Kati. Or me."

"Doc, you not feedin' your ladies?" Axel teases as we enter the kitchen.

"Ha ha," he says sardonically. "These two eat more than the two of us ever could."

"Champions," I say, rubbing my stomach.

We sit down to reheated Thai food, as Dad regales us with the tales of his losing streak against Axel. Afterwards, Mom and Dad go sink into the couch to watch their newest obsession, Homeland, while Axel and I go upstairs to watch a movie.

* * *

><p>"I'm not gonna press you on this, baby, but are you gonna tell me what's going on?" he asks, falling onto my bed.<p>

I exhale, helping Nigel onto the bed and crawling in beside Axel. Our movements are so familiar, we don't even think about it. He moves his arm, I sink into him, and his arm wraps around me like a shield. It's like our bodies were made to fit like this.

I chew my lip.

I tell Axel everything. Aside from Jamie, he's always been my closest friend. He's never broken my trust, or told a secret, or been anything but a true friend. And now he's my boyfriend, so I feel like all of those feelings are tenfold.

"Just us?" I ask, looking up at him.

"Is there anyone else?" he says, a slight smile.

He rubs a thumb along the skin on the back of my hand.

"It's Max," I say.

"I know," he says. "She's been totally off lately. Hardly recognize the girl."

I nod.

"How bad is it?"

"Bad," I reply, pressing my face closer to the soft cotton of his shirt; inhaling the intoxicating scent of his cologne. "She's been..."

I stop. Can I tell this secret to Axel? Can I break my promise to Max again? The first time, was to help her. This would be only to help myself; to get it off my chest. But I've already done.

"Handling things badly," I finish.

"You don't have to tell me all of it, K," he says softly. "I know Max is having a hard time. She's moody as hell, she's been drinking like a fish at parties, and she guards her long sleeves like her life depends on it. Reminds me a bit of my cousin Salinger. You know, the one who had anorexia and cut herself and stuff? I mean, I can't imagine the kind of things Max feels, about her dad and graduation...and she told me about Berkeley. Hell, I can't even imagine what you feel, sometimes. Girls have like, a thousand extra feelings than guys do. But I get it, that you girls have secrets and whatever. I just don't want you to feel like you have to push me away or hide from me when you're feeling that under pressure."

I bury my face in his chest and his grip around me tightens. He kisses the top of my head, and then tips my chin up.

"You're okay?"

I nod.

"I need you to promise you'll tell me if you need anything. I promised you a long time that I'd always watch your back and take care of you. So let me."

I smile, and when the corners of his mouth move upwards I get the familiar fluttery feeling in my chest.

"I love you," I tell him, and he pulls me up to kiss me.

"I love you most."

* * *

><p>I call Max, and text her, but she doesn't reply. I'd be lying if I said I was expecting her to. She's furious at me, and she's going to stay that way for awhile. Her anger is seeded with so much pain, that it's going to take her awhile to work through it.<p>

A couple days later I go to the practice to meet Mom for lunch, and I see Max in Violet's office. She looks how I imagine I looked a little while after Jamie. Shut down, angry and lost. I swallow, seeing her and wishing I could talk to her. But I know that won't happen. Not for awhile.

As Mom and I are leaving the practice for lunch, we pass the door to Violet's office as she opens it. Max sees me and the fury in her eyes hasn't dimmed. It's been three days since that night, and her anger hasn't cooled down at all. She glares at me, and after a moment I look away, my cheeks flushing red and my stomach dropping.

"It'll be okay," Mom says in the elevator, once the doors close.

"How many times has she seen Violet?" I ask, even though it's none of my business.

"Two," Mom confides. "She's coming in everyday."

I nod slowly.

"You did the right thing, baby," Mom runs a hand over my hair. "No matter how bad it feels right now, and how sick you feel about it...you did the right thing."

I try to believe her, but I'm doing a terrible job of it. She tries to distract me, taking me to the boardwalk for lunch and then taking me shopping.

"No patients?" I ask, as she turns into Source Snowboards.

"Nope," she smiles.

It's prime season for snowboards. All of the newest designs are out, and she knows I was needing a new board.

"I don't need one right now, really," I say, flipping through a few Burtons. "Not until Christmas. We're going away, right? Whistler or something?"

"Yeah," Mom nods. "We're going."

She doesn't look me in the eye, but I don't bother wondering about it. While she goes and picks up some new goggles for Dad and a new jacket for her, I browse through the boards until I find an amazing multi-coloured Burton with a white bottom.

"You need any help?" someone asks.

I look up to see the guy who works here. I've seen him pretty much every time I've come here. He's always got this dazed, goofy grin. He smokes more weed than Peter Haven.

"Nah, I'm good thanks," I smile, turning back to the board.

"You board a lot," he says, frowning in thought.

I look up at him. Shrug. "I guess. When I can."

"Yeah, man, I've seen you in here," he says, still frowning in concentration.

Slowly, he points at me. "You buy white and purple stuff."

I stare at him, more surprised than creeped out.

"Yes," I say after a moment, matching his frown.

He smiles a stoner smile. "I like purple."

I give a small, breathy laugh. "Me too, buddy."

I lift the board.

"Sick choice, bra," he says, moving forward to lift it from my hands. "This baby just came in yesterday. And you know us, we only carry one of every design."

"Gotta love originality," I nod, following him to the front.

"Totally, bra."

We reach the front and Mom meets us there.

"You found one?" she smiles.

"She found The One," the guy grins, going behind the till.

Mom glances at me, but I just smile.

"Hey," the guy says, looking at Mom. "You're a doctor, right?"

Mom frowns at me, but I just nod, as if to say 'Just go with it'.

"Yes," she says.

"No, I've seen you in here with your daughter before. You were talking about congenital disorders."

Mom and I stare, floored.

This kid talks and looks like a complete pothead, but somehow he has the memory of someone with hyperthymesia.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" he asks.

"Alright," Mom says, wondering who this kid is.

He comes out from around the counter and turns around, pulling up his shirt and revealing his back. An angry-looking rash stares back at us. We both lean forward, interested.

"I found this a couple days ago," the kid says. "You think it's like, eczema? Or something more serious?"

"Well, I'm not sure," Mom says, peering closely. "I'd say you should get it checked out."

"Oh, no can do, Doc," he shakes his head, going back around the counter. "I don't get that kind of insurance."

"That could be serious," Mom says, getting her Doctor Face on.

The kid shrugs and starts ringing up out stuff.

"Look," Mom says, reaching into her purse and pulling out her card. "You come by the practice. We'll sort something out."

"Serious?" the guy stares, looking at the card and then Mom, and then Mom. "Serious?" He says again.

I shrug and nod.

"Yes, serious," Mom replies.

"No way," he smiles. "Thanks!"

Mom smiles.

"I'll let you guys use my discount," he grins, as though this is a huge honor. "It's the least I can do. I mean, it's probably more like the most I can do, but...y'know."

"Thanks," I laugh.

"Hey no prob," he says, taking Mom's credit card. "Where are you going snowboarding?"

"I dunno," I shrug. "Hopefully Whistler in the winter."

"Sick, bra," he says, dead-panned. "I'm jealous."

I look back for a moment, and nod slowly.

"Well...thanks, buddy. For...y'know. Everything," I say.

"Much appreciated," Mom smiles, taking the bag he hands her.

He hands me the board.

"No worries, ladies," he says, nodding. "Besides, you're like, the hottest doctor I've ever seen."

I laugh, and turn to leave the store.

"You come in and get that rash checked out," Mom says, laughing slightly.

"Totally," the guy says


	83. Chapter 83

Weeks go by, and then prom is right in front of me. I haven't spoken to Max. She wouldn't respond to any of the texts or calls to her after that night, and after the fourth day of texting her, I stopped. When she's ready...if she's ready...to talk to me, she will. Still, I wish we were going to be spending this day together.

Mom and I go to a salon in the morning, for my hair and makeup. I said I'd do my own makeup, but the Prom Queen inside her refused. She probably wishes I were more excited about this, but in all honesty I'm only doing it for Axel and for my parents. So they'll have something to put in the photo album for my graduation.

Back at our house, Axel, Jenelle, Megan, Chase and Jenelle's date, Michael, arrive. The Masons are all there, of course, to grab photos, and Jenelle's mom and dad are there, too. While the three of us girls go up to my room, everyone else goes out onto the patio to hang out. Max was invited, but her mom called about a week ago to say that she didn't want to come.

We adjust our makeup, fiddle with our hair. They're all dressed already, and I'm still in the sweatpants I wore to the salon. As expected, a little while later Addison and Amelia burst into my room.

"Hey!" they cry, coming to hug me and greeting the other girls.

"Aw, Kati, you look amazing," Amelia fawns, gently touching my hair, which was left down, and some product was added to enhance the curls.

"So do you," I raise my eyebrows, staring at her stomach. She is enormous, but of course I don't say so.

"Ugh, I am five days overdue and so ready to not be pregnant anymore," she rolls her eyes.

"And I am also ready for that," Addison smiles.

"Well don't burst open on the floor," I make a face.

"I just might," she nods slowly.

"So what the heck? Where's the dress? Why aren't you wearing it yet?" Addison looks around. She finds it, hanging near my armoire.

"I just got back from the salon like, half an hour ago," I shrug.

"She's delaying," Megan says drily.

"That's crazy. I love my dress. I'd wear it out on a regular basis, if I wouldn't be stared at like I was crazy," Jenelle says, examining herself in the mirror.

Jenelle's dress matches her personality. Large, bright and loud. It's almost wedding-dress like, with a fitted bodice and a foofy bottom, that bursts out at her hips and goes to the floor in waves. It's blue, which looks great with her blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Alright," I sigh, taking the dress as Addison stands in front of me, swinging it back and forth. I go into the bathroom, shutting the door as I hear Mom come into my room.

"Is she not dressed yet?" she asks, incredulous.

"Don't sound so surprised," Addison says. "Your wedding was delayed a good 20 minutes while we waited for you."

I pull off the sweats and my t-shirt and put on a strapless bra. Slipping into the dress, I realize that I forgot how good this dress actually feels. How surprisingly comfortable it is. With the subtle gold eye makeup, the dress almost perfectly matches my eyes. It falls to the floor smoothly, without any awkward lines or bunches.

"Jamie, you must be having a good laugh up there," I say under my breath. She knew I'd never planned to go to prom. I reach into the jewelry box on the counter and slip Jamie's sweet-16 ring onto my finger.

"Kati!" Addison groans from my bedroom.

I sigh and open the door, almost rolling my eyes at the sounds that start coming from Addison, Amelia and Mom.

As expected, all three of them pull out cameras.

"Can I come in?" Dad calls from the hallway.

"No," I call back.

He groans, but I hear him go downstairs.

"Baby, you are absolutely gorgeous," Mom breathes, and I see that her eyes are glassy.

"Really?" I look at her, skeptically. "This makes you cry?"

"Mother's Prerogative," she says, blinking quickly.

"Then how do we explain Amelia?" I ask, because tears are streaming down her face, and Addison, rubbing her back soothingly, is tearing up too.

"Hormones," Addison says.

"Kati, you do look...amazing," Jenelle shakes her head.

"Thanks, Jen," I smile. "I guess I couldn't stay in sweatpants, and stand next to you, looking like a runway model."

"Okay, pictures!" Addison says, pushing Jenelle and Megan towards me.

"In here?" I make a face.

"Yes! Some!" she replies.

So the three of us stand there for a few photos.

"You make a good trio," Amelia smiles. "A brunette, a blonde and a redhead."

"You mean like you guys?" Megan asks, and the three of them look at each other as though just realizing this.

"Oh hey," Addison smiles. "Look at that."

"We're one redhead short," I say quietly, but offer up a small smile so no one thinks I'm about to get mellow about it. Even though I miss Max, a lot.

"Alright, let's go relieve the crowd downstairs," Mom says.

So we head downstairs, with me ending up last as I remember to grab my purse and some just-in-case makeup.

When I reach the last step, the first person I see is Axel. I've always know him to be the best-looking guy I've ever seen, but damn, can that boy wear a suit. Cut perfectly, it fits him like it was tailored. Which, I realize, it absolutely is. Mrs Mason would see to that.

His tie and kerchief are the exact green of my dress. I'm sure both of our mothers had something to do with that. I can't help but smile at him, and he's looking at me with this mixture of shock and euphoria.

Uncomfortably, I realize that several people are staring at me, namely Dad and the Masons. Dad looks like he's going to lose it, and the Masons look proud.

"Jeez," I say quietly, walking towards Axel. "This is worse than giving a speech in class."

He laughs, reaching for me as I get close to him.

"Kati, you look..." he shakes his head and reaches up to touch my cheek. "Unbelievable."

I feel myself blush, but he saves me from everyone seeing by leaning forward and kissing me.

"Alright, alright," Dad says. "Let me get in there."

Axel releases me and Dad envelopes me.

"Honey, you look so beautiful," he smiles, holding my arms.

"Thanks, Dad," I smile.

We assemble so the parents and Amelia and Addison can take photos, first inside and then moving out to the front yard, for some outside photos.

"Axel, where's Kati's corsage?" Addison calls out, from the line of photographers.

"I know better," he says, raising his eyebrows.

We all laugh, and couples break off as their parents want to get photos.

"I did get you something, though," Axel says quietly, pulling me slightly to the side.

"What?" I ask, surprised.

He pulls out a small box.

"You didn't have to get me anything," I say. "It's just prom."

"No," he says, smiling and putting the box in my hands. "It's our prom."

I open the box and find a beautiful white-gold heart necklace; the kind I've always loved. The heart is about two inches wide, and hangs from one half of the heart.

"Axel," I breathe, taking it out of the box.

"I know you used to have one, but Jamie lost it," he says, reaching out to take it, unclasping the chain. "And you know I couldn't resist putting something beautiful on my beautiful girl."

I feel my cheeks redden and see Mom, Mrs Mason and Addison snapping photos of the two of us.

He slides the necklace around my neck, and smiles, kissing me.

"Perfect."

"You are," I smile, kissing him.

Addison calls for all the boys to get together for a photo. Mom and Dad come over and admire the necklace.

"It's beautiful, baby," Mom smiles.

"Yeah," I smile. "I love it."

"How about a photo of the Freedmans?" Mrs Mason calls out.

The photos last forever, as parents call out for different groups and different spots on the front lawn. Finally, Mom announces that it's time to get going.

She, Dad, Addison and Amelia are chaperones, so they're travelling together. Mom tried to talk Amelia out of it, but she refused, saying that she'd agreed to this months ago, and wasn't about to back down now.

"You can't be standin' on your feet all night," Mom had argued.

But Amelia couldn't be dissuaded, saying that she would find a chair. So Mom let it go, because any more prodding would have probably ended up with Amelia bursting into tears.

I climb into the waiting limo with my friends. Leave it to Chase and Axel to bring the party to the limo. I have never met Michael before, since he goes to a different school, but apparently he was in on it too, because all three of them pull out flasks, and Chase pulls a bottle of champagne out of a nearby wine bucket.

Jenelle, Megan and I stare.

"Come on," he says, as though this should be common knowledge. Which, I guess, it should be. "Like I didn't plan ahead and sneak this in here hours ago."

We laugh as glasses are passed around and filled up. Tonight, I'm not worrying about anything, and I'm letting my guard down a bit. I don't think I'd ever live it down if I didn't have even one drink at our prom.

The driver takes us around LA, and an hour, a bottle of champagne, and one flask of vodka later, we pull up to the hall where our prom is. We're all sufficiently buzzed, and I'm having way more fun than I thought I would. When Axel takes my hand and helps me out of the limo, the first person I see upon standing up and looking around, is Max.


	84. Chapter 84

For a second I think she's going to burn me with that glare she's had for me for weeks. But her eyes almost soften when they meet mine.

Megan and Jenelle see her and hurry over, excited.

"Max! You look beautiful! We didn't think you were coming!" Jenelle cries, hugging her.

"Oh, I just...couldn't come in the limo," she replies, avoiding their eyes. "I had...an appointment."

They don't know. No one else does.

I watch as Max self-consciously fiddles with the bracelet on her left wrist. It's thin and if you looked closely, you could see the thin white lines.

"Well, you can hang out with us now!" Jenelle smiles. "Come on!"

"Just a sec, okay?" she smiles, small.

Michael and Chase slip their arms around their dates and start to head inside.

"See you in there?" Axel squeezes my hand.

I nod, and he kisses my cheek.

"Hey Max," he waves. "Good to see you, girl."

She offers him the same small smile.

Axel catches up to everyone else, leaving me alone with Max, who is just a few feet away. It's quiet for a few moments. She squirms, uncomfortably. I open my mouth to speak first, but she beats me to it.

"You look really beautiful," she says quietly.

Surprised, I glance down at my dress.

"Oh...thanks," I reply. I meet her eyes. "So do you."

She blushes, fiddling again with the beaded bracelet.

"Look, Kati," she exhales nervously. "I'm sorry I got so mad at you."

"It's okay," I shake my head.

Mom, Dad, Amelia and Addison arrive. Wordlessly, they wave and head inside. Mom gives me a wink and smile.

"I get why you were mad," I go on. "I mean, I would be, too. If you'd broken a promise."

She shakes her head. "It was a shitty secret to ask you to keep."

Her red curls fall over her face as she looks down again, touching the beaded bracelet.

"I was really angry, but I realized that I wasn't angry at you. I was just..."

"Angry. In general?" I offer.

"Yeah," she says, looking me in the eye. Her blue-green eyes are glassy. "And I know you were just trying to help me. I know you were scared."

I nod slowly.

"I was scared, too," she whispers.

I swallow, and she continues to play with her bracelet. Suddenly, the string breaks and the colorful beads spill across the ground.

Her face freezes, but she doesn't move to grab the beads. She knows it would be a useless attempt.

"Fuck," she mutters, holding the remaining string and beads in her hand.

Wordlessly, I undo the brown leather wrap-bracelet on my wrist. I step forward and fasten it around her wrist, ignoring the score of white lines.

Surprised, she watches as I tie the leather cord.

"Are you..."

"I'm sure," I reply, letting go of her wrist. "It looks better with purple anyway."

She smiles, but it's accompanied by an influx of tears. They start to spill over, so I lean forward and hug her.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

"Me too," I say.

After a moment, we release. Face-to-face, she smiles. I grab a tissue from my bag. Thank god Mom thinks of these things.

"Don't smudge your makeup," I smile.

She smiles, dabbing at her wet cheeks.

We're quiet for a moment, as she fidgets with the tissue.

"So...I chose Sarah Lawrence," she says quietly, glancing up at me.

"That's awesome, Max," I smile, happy for her.

She blushes slightly.

"They won't know what hit 'em," I say, and she manages a small laugh.

"We'll be pretty far apart," she says.

I shrug. "Text, Skype, vacations...piece of cake."

She smiles, looking relieved.

"You wanna go inside? I bet my dad's already on the dance floor, attempting to Dougie," I say.

She laughs, and nods, and we head inside.

* * *

><p>Chadwick went all out, as expected. The place is decorated amazingly, with tables set up and a dance floor in the centre. Although, we probably won't be spending much time on it. Axel's having a grad party at his house, and we're all going soon after the dinner and awards.<p>

I spot our table, and Mom waves.

"Oh, our table's beside yours," Max points.

We reach the two tables and Max squeezes my hand, smiling as she goes to join her mother.

"Everything okay?" Mom asks, as I sit down beside her.

"Yeah," I smile. "Perfect."

Axel's on my other side, and his hand slips into mine.

Dean Kim gets on stage and says a few words about our graduating class. Even though I've technically already graduated, I'm still part of the graduating class. There's a slideshow of photos. I get to see a few pictures of me, and also of Jamie. But mostly I get to see how my friends spent their senior year. Surprisingly, I don't feel sad watching it. I feel like, despite the horrible events of the past year, there were some great ones, too. And I don't need a slideshow for the whole world to see, because I got to see it first hand.

My eyes prickle as, at the very end of the slideshow, there's a picture of Jamie and I, and as it zooms in on her face, the words 'In Loving Memory' appear on the screen.

The applause afterwards, as the lights come on, seems louder than usual, and it makes me smile.

* * *

><p>They serve dinner, and kids attempt to snag drinks from the bar. Dean Kim is a force to be reckoned with, though, and they back off when they realize her stare is focused on them.<p>

"I suppose it's a good thing you two had some drinks in the limo," Mom says.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, and she raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, Katelyn, it's obvious," she rolls her eyes. "I think I know when my own child is tipsy."

I bite into my lip to hold back a smile, but I can't.

"Well, they're gonna do what they want to do, y'know?" Addison shrugs, drinking her wine. "At least you know where she is, who's she with...I guess it's like a Get Out of Jail Free card."

"Yes," I nod, looking back at Mom. "Absolutely it is."

She shakes her head, but there's a slightly amused smile attempting to show.

"Maybe you'll finally get to hold my hair back tonight," I grin.

"You are so much like your mother, it's scary," Amelia laughs softly.

Mom gives her a look, but Amelia just laughs.

"Come on. Don't act like I didn't know you before you were a mother. We had some good nights at the bar."

Mom just sips her wine as we laugh.

"Are you not going to eat that?" Addison points at Amelia's plate, where several crab legs still sit.

"No," she shakes her head, pushing the plate towards Addison. "I'm not really hungry."

We all stare at her.

"The pregnant lady isn't hungry?" Axel raises an eyebrow.

"I know," Amelia rolls her eyes.

"Are you okay? You look a little tired," Mom frowns, watching her.

"Yeah, no I'm just tired. All good," she waves a hand dismissively.

* * *

><p>After dinner, there's a short ceremony for the diplomas, and then the DJ turns on his colored disco balls and starts the music.<p>

People scatter, escaping parents and grandparents, teachers and chaperones, so they can try and smuggle their flasks into the bathrooms.

Max, Jenelle, Megan and I sneak into the girl's bathroom and cram all four of us into the handicap stall.

"Alright, let's do these," Megan says, producing four ready-made shots from her purse.

"Porn Star?" I raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Lame name, delicious shot," Megan shrugs.

We peel the tops off and hold the plastic shot glasses together.

"To..." Megan starts, but blows air out of her cheeks. "Christ, surviving this year, I guess?"

We laugh.

"And to Jamie," Jenelle adds.

"To Jamie," we repeat, and do the shots.

"Wow," I say, wiping my mouth. "You were right. That's not bad."

"Neither are these," she grins, mischeviously, pulling out four more.

"Are you serious?" Max laughs.

"I couldn't choose between the two, so I got both," she shrugs, handing them out.

We cheers and shoot the liquor, and it burns more than the sweetness of the other one.

"There's Wild Turkey in that," I make a face, dropping the cup into the garbage.

"Yeah," Megan smiles.

We laugh and leave the stall, nearly crashing into Addison.

"Hello girls," she smiles, in a way that lets you know she's playing with you.

"Addison," I grin. My stomach is warm from the liquor, and I was already tipsy from the limo.

"Just helping each other with your dresses in there," she gestures towards the stall.

"Strapless bras are terrible for sliding down," Max nods emphatically, adjusting hers.

"Yeah," Addison says, giving us a dry look. "Hate when that happens."

She goes into a stall, watching us the entire time. I shake my head at her as she points to her eyes and then to mine.

We go back out into the hall and go on the dance floor. I see Mom, Dad and Amelia nearby, watching over everyone, even though everybody knows they can't do much about the drinking.

We dance to a few songs, and Max finally seems like her usual self. Happy, boisterous, with those flaming red curls flying around her.

A couple of songs in, I say I'm going to the washroom. I turn around and watch as Amelia clutches the bottom of her swollen belly. Her face crumples in pain as she slips to her knees. Mom and Dad grab her arms just before she slams into the floor.


	85. Chapter 85

"Is she okay?" I ask, panicked, as I kneel near the three of them.

"I'm okay," Amelia gasps, still clutching her stomach.

Addison reaches us, fear pressed into her face.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

She's down on her knees beside me, as Mom and Dad keep hold of Amelia's arms,

steadying her.

"I'm fine," she repeats, slightly exasperated. "I just..."

She stops, her face contorting in obvious pain.

"Contractions," she breathes.

I feel warmth on my hand, pressed against the floor. There's a pool of blood

underneath Amelia.

"Addison," I say quietly, almost under my breath.

I look at her, and she frowns at me, confused. I look back to the spreading

puddle.

When I look back at her, her face has smoothed into the look she reserves

for patients. Stoic, calm. But her eyes give her away completely. She's

terrified.

"Someone call an ambulance," she orders.

"What? No," Amelia starts, because I don't think she realizes that she's

bleeding. "I'm fine. Let's just drive there."

She's putting on a brave front, but she's white as a sheet and keeps

grimacing through the obvious pain.

"Just in case," Addison replies, managing a small smile for her.

"I think...did my water break?" she asks, looking dazed.

I see Mom's face as they move Amelia backwards, and she sees the blood. Dad,

already hanging up his phone after calling the ambulance, swallows

nervously.

"They're on their way," he says.

"Can we wait outside? It's making me dizzy, those lights," Amelia breathes.

Dad grabs Dean Kim, as she approaches, wondering what the commotion is. He

speaks to her in hushed tones, and her kind but austere face smoothes into

the same calm expression that Addison has.

She nods once at Dad, and as he and Mom gently lift Amelia and help her find

her footing, Dean Kim swiftly pulls a table cloth from an empty table and

drops it on the pool of blood, covering it with the dark fabric. She speaks to the chaperone near her, who

then nods and walks away.

I swear, everything that woman does is calm, efficient and stoic.

We take Amelia outside, just as the ambulance is pulling up. Addison, not

wanting to make Amelia panic, has still not told Amelia that she's bleeding.

Her firm, almost unnoticeable shake of her head at Mom and Dad told them not

to tell her either.

As Addison begins delivering her practiced lines to the EMTs, they get

Amelia onto a stretcher.

"What happened?"

Axel appears at my side, drunk and worried.

"I think she went into the labor," I say quietly, breathing quickly. "But she's bleeding."

His face falls.

"Oh, god."

"I'm going with them to the hospital," I tell him. "I'll call you as soon as I know something."

"I'll go with you," he says quickly, grabbing my hand.

"No," I smile. "You stay. Have fun, and I'll be back soon."

"You sure?" His forehead crinkles into worry lines.

"I'm sure," I stand on my toes to kiss him.

"I love you," he hugs me.

"I love you, too," I reply.

"Kati!" Mom calls.

"I gotta go," I tell Axel, and hurry over to where Mom and Dad are standing.

The ambulance, along with Amelia and Addison, is speeding away.

"Baby, we're gonna go to the hospital," Mom says, touching my hair as I

reach them.

"I know," I reply. "So am I.'

"Honey, it's your prom," Dad says, tilting his head.

"And Amelia's my family," I reply, matter-of-factly. "Let's go."

I walk towards the car.

"She won't stay," Mom says obviously, and then they follow me.

"Why is she bleeding so much?" I ask, buckling my seatbelt.

"Low-lying placenta," Mom replies quickly. "Addison said she's been carrying

the baby low, but obviously no one was expecting this."

"Did someone call Jake?" I demand, since he's Amelia's doctor.

"I'm sure Addison did, honey," Dad reassures.

"Why would a low-lying placenta cause her to hemorrhage like that?" I ask,

my mind moving faster than I can get the questions out. "I mean, the baby's

gonna be okay, right?"

"I'm sure the baby's fine," Mom replies, expertly navigating the freeway.

"She's got Jake and Addison taking care of her. Who better?"

I nod, swallowing hard as my heart beats quickly.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later we arrive at St. Ambrose. We rush inside and Mom quickly<p>

finds them in a room near emergency.

Amelia knows now, about the bleeding, because she's crying and panicked,

demanding that Jake help the baby.

"We've got the baby on a fetal monitor, Amelia," Jake replies calmly. "He,

or she, isn't in any distress right now."

He tries to smile slightly, still keeping the sex of the baby a secret, but

it doesn't work on Amelia.

"Right now? He could be in distress later? Soon?" she demands.

She's referred to the baby as a He the whole time.

I watch as nurses remove the padding below Amelia, and it's deep scarlet. I

stare, shocked.

"Cooper, maybe take Kati to the waiting room," Mom says quietly, looking at

Amelia's chart.

"No," I say sharply.

She glances up.

"Sugar, I know you're worried, but-"

"I'm staying," I interrupt her.

"Kati," Addison starts, coming from behind a curtain, pulling on her scrubs shirt.

"I'm staying," I repeat.

"We can't have everyone in here," Addison says, softer.

"Come on, honey," Dad squeezes my shoulder. "Let's go get a drink."

I glance at Amelia, as she breathes through her contractions. Nurses arrive to put her in a gown.

"It'll be okay, Kati," she says, breathless, the terrified look in her eyes

clear. "You can come back as soon as the baby's here."

I nod, and let Dad lead me from the room.


	86. Chapter 86

I pace the waiting room as Dad nervously sits in a chair, rubbing his face.

"It's been too long," I say impatiently.

"Honey, it's only been an hour," he says gently.

"Yeah, but she was obviously in labor for awhile. She was rubbing her stomach all day, and she barely ate dinner. And then she starts bleeding! You have to go check on her," I say, getting worked up.

"Alright, sweetie," he gets up, coming to kiss my forehead. "Just sit down and try to calm down."

"Right," I say sarcastically.

He leaves the room, and I go back to pacing.

"Hey, sweetie," I hear, and turn around to see Violet coming into the room.

"Hey," I say quietly, as she comes to hug me.

"How are you doing?" she asks, concerned.

"How's Amelia?" I reply.

She smiles understandingly, but doesn't reply.

"Violet, if something's wrong, like really wrong, you have to tell me," I say, my forehead creasing.

"Come here," she says softly, pulling me down to sit in a chair. My stomach flutters with fear.

"Alright, you're not a little girl anymore. You're still a kid. There's no way I won't stop thinking of you as one, because I've known you since you were about five minutes old...but you are growing up.

So I'll give it to you straight, alright?"

I nod, chewing the inside of my lower lip.

"Amelia lost a lot of blood. Her placenta was lying very low. I guess Jake knew this, and so did Amelia, but she didn't say anything because she didn't want Addison to get worried. So, you know what

placenta praevia is?"

I nod.

"Of course you do. Okay, so her placenta was covering her cervix completely. The bleeding was coming from the placenta, not from the uterus itself. So I know it was a lot of blood and it probably

freaked you out, but she's going to be fine. They did have to rush her into surgery, though, because she can't deliver the baby naturally."

"Because it's blocked?"

"Yeah," she nods, rubbing my back.

"They're both gonna be okay?"

"Well, you know there's always risks with delivery, whether it's natural or C-section," Violet responds calmly. "But Amelia's healthy, the baby's been healthy, and she's got Jake and Addison in there

with her."

"Addison's in there?" I raise an eyebrow.

Technically, since Addison is going to be the baby's mother, that shouldn't be allowed.

Violet rolls her eyes a little, trying to make a joke.

"Let's see _you _find someone who can tear her outta there."

I manage a small smile.

"They've just been...a really long time," I say, fidgeting with the fabric of my dress.

"I know," she says gently. "But try not to worry. Soon Jake's going to come out here, and everyone will be okay. Yeah?"

I exhale and nod.

I hope she's right.

* * *

><p>We wait and wait. There were complications, since the placenta kept bleeding, and Amelia had trouble with the anesthesia. Axel calls, wanting to know how Amelia's doing. I give him a summary,<p>

and tell him not to worry. Which is odd, because that's all I've been doing.

"Well...everyone's heading over to my house," he says.

"Okay. I'll talk to you soon," I say.

We hang out in the waiting room, and our group has expanded to include Pete and Lucas, Sheldon, and Dell.

Finally, over three hours after we arrive at the hospital, Jake comes into the waiting room. His face is blank, until he looks up and sees all of us. We almost simultaneously stand up.

"How is she?" about four people blurt out.

Jake smiles, holding up his hands. "Amelia is fine. Had a little trouble along the way, but she's going to be just fine."

The relief in the room is palpable.

"And the baby?" Violet asks.

Jake smiles, knowing the suspense is killing us.

"Well...," he says slowly. "_He _is perfectly healthy."

The room breaks into instant happiness, as everyone hugs and breathes sighs of relief.

"She says you can all come see her," he finishes, and heads out of the waiting room.

Nobody wastes any time in following him hurriedly down the hallway.

* * *

><p>We reach a room, and Jake pushes open the heavy door.<p>

Sitting there on the bed is Amelia. She's still pale and she looks exhausted. She's clearly still coming out of the anesthesia. I can imagine that part is making her nervous, since she always refuses

pain medication, given her history. But this time, she didn't really have a choice.

She smiles when she sees us.

"Hey," she croaks, and holds out her arms as I enter the room.

I go to hug her, and inhale the familiar scent of hospital: metal, and the sickly sweet smell of medications.

"You okay?" she says into my hair.

I pull back, staring at her.

"Am _I _okay?" I raise my eyebrows.

She manages a small laugh, but presses into her abdomen as it hurts.

"Kati, honey, I'm so sorry," she says. "I ruined your big day."

I stare at her in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask, as Mom laughs and pushes hair behind my ear. "I think we all know about I feel about prom."

She smiles, and hugs me again.

"Go see your new cousin," she says.

I get and turn to see Addison for the first time.

The look on her face makes my eyes prickle. I've never seen her look so happy, so content, so...overjoyed. She's waited so long. She's always been a mother, without a baby, and now she has

everything she ever wanted.

I walk over and peer into the bundle of blankets. Nestled in there is the tiniest baby I've ever seen. Then again, I haven't seen very many newborns. He has dark hair, like Amelia's, long fingers, and

eyelashes that any girl would kill for.

"He's so small," I say, touching his tiny hand.

"Do you wanna hold him?" Addison asks.

"You're offering to let someone else hold your baby?" I ask, surprised.

She laughs, and moves to place the baby in my arms. He's impossibly light.

"What's his name?" I ask, looking down at his perfect face.

I spent countless hours with Addison, poring over baby name books. But she never let on that she had one specific name picked out.

"Judah."

I look up, smiling at her.

"The praised one," I say, remembering seeing the name in a book and loving it.

"Yes he is," Mom smiles, and she reaches over, touching his soft cheek.


	87. Chapter 87

The next day, I go back to the hospital to visit Amelia. When I get there she's packing up her stuff.

"They're letting you leave?" I ask, surprised, hopping onto the bed.

"Doctor's prerogative," she smiles.

"I need some of that," I say drily, and she laughs.

"So how are you?" I ask, because ever since yesterday, when we all came in to see her and meet Judah, she's been trying a little too hard to be happy.

"I'm alright," she shrugs, putting things into her bag.

"No, I mean...really," I say.

She chews her lip, as if deciding whether or not to spill. She sits on the bed.

"Well, it's all very...bizarre."

We've all been wondering how she would handle giving her baby up. But she'd made that decision months ago, and she's known the whole time that she would be handing the baby over to Addison

as soon as he arrived.

"I think maybe it's time for a change, y'know?"

She pushes a lock of hair behind my ear.

"What do you mean?"

She looks sad for a minute, as though she doesn't want to tell me something.

"What?" I repeat, getting impatient.

"I mean, I think I'm gonna switch things up a bit. Go live in Seattle and work at Seattle Grace, with Derek."

I stare at her.

"You're leaving?"

"Kati, look," she says, turning to face me straight on. "I knew from the beginning that this baby...that I couldn't be a mother. The whole babies thing was never in my picture of Happily Ever After. In

mine, I would have the prince, and that was all I wanted. Babies need...god, everything. But mostly they need to grow up in the best possible home. And for Judah..." she shrugs, her eyes a little

glassy. "Well, that home is a place I would never be able to provide."

I listen, unsure of what to say.

"Addison is going to give that kid the best possible life he could ask for. She's wanted, needed, a baby for so long...it all just kind of fit into place, y'know? But as sure as I am that this is for the best, I

also don't think I can stay here and watch him grow up. See him all the time. I just think...I think it's time for a change."

I nod, understanding more what she means.

"Addison's been his mother all along," she squeezes my hand. "I was just the landlord."

She grins and I have to smile.

"It'll be weird. Not seeing you all the time," I say, fiddling with a bracelet on my wrist.

"I know," she says softly. "I'm gonna miss you so much."

She tips my chin up to meet her eyes.

"But we can text and Skype, and you can come visit me whenever you want. I'll never not be there for you, sweetie."

I manage a small smile and nod, as my eyes tingle. She pulls me in and hugs me tightly.

"Come on," she says, getting off the bed. "Help me lug these bags out to my car. And then let's go get some tacos. This hospital crap is terrible."

She grins, and I follow her out the door.

* * *

><p>Amelia's clearly had this plan in place for months. The next evening, we have a BBQ to send her off to Seattle, because she leaves the next morning.<p>

"Should you be flying, with fresh staples in your stomach?" I frown.

"I'm fine," she waves a hand. "I'm not starting work right away, anyhow. I'm just going to relax, and read. Hang out with Derek and Mark and their insane bunch of friends."

She's still walking slowly, in obvious discomfort since she's refusing pain medication. But Pete's been trying some homeopathic options with her and she says they're helping.

As hard as it probably is for Amelia, she smiles at Judah as Addison holds him in her arms all afternoon.

Axel comes over and we all sit outside all afternoon, just hanging out. I realize, with Sam in New York with his daughter, and Addison (and Jake) with Judah, and Amelia going to Seattle, everything's

going to be different now. The thought of it all makes me feel kind of scared. But when I look back and consider what this year has brought me, and what all of these things have shown me, I know

that I can handle anything at this point. Regardless of whether or not I like it. I hate that Amelia's leaving, but I know that I'll be okay, and she'll be okay, and our motley crew of family will always be

just that: a family.

I lost a lot during this past year, and I've changed in ways I didn't really realize, until I actually thought about it. If someone would have told me a year ago, all of the things that would happen during

the next 12 months, I would have laughed. I would have thought it impossible. But, here I am. Here we are. So even though Amelia's leaving, I curl under Axel's arm and smile, loving every single

person I'm blessed to have in my life.

I think to the future. I have an entire summer ahead of me, with trips planned and books to read. But most of all, after the summer, what comes next is Berkeley.


End file.
